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sailorrhansol · 3 months

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Chat, is that Rizz? | j.ww (m)

Pairing: Streamer!Wonwoo x Streamer! F.reader

❀ Summary: Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

❀ Word Count: 5,366

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, Faux Rivals

❀ Type: Smut, a hint of fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: This is so cheesy and stupid and I don’t care!! Explicit language, teasing and light antagonization, gamer and streamer speak in spots, sexually explicit content including spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, hint of overstimulation, playful banter and teasing during sex, bodily fluids, soft dom if you squint. UNEDITED.

❀ A/N: I don’t care that parts of this are kind of cringe, @daechwitatamic tells me to write so I write and I needed to get out of a writing slump. Yes the game they are playing is Valorant. No I did not call it Valorant. Have I played Valorant in the last year? No! Anyway, please enjoy this shameless porn no plot! Also please don't arrest me for the fucking TERRIBLE puns.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“You’re never going to hit Immortal with that strat, Wonwoo,” you tease, cringing as he gets gunned down by the enemy team’s Reyna. “Rotated too early.”

“Here they go,” Seungcheol mutters into the mic, his exasperation making you grin as you fix your eyes on the screen. Like both you and Wonwoo, Seungcheol has already died in the round, watching as Mingyu navigates the map to pick up the bomb to attempt to save the round.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you while you were dead,” Wonwoo shoots back. You scrunch your nose, knowing that it is, unfortunately, true. “I was in the land of the living. You know. Because I didn’t dry peek long and die.”

“Seungcheol told me to push site!”

“Maybe push with util, though? Or be better.”

On the right side of your screen, you can see your chat blowing up. You grin and roll your eyes - you aren’t actually bothered by Wonwoo and you know he isn’t mad either. Playing games with him always elicits teasing and a steady back and forth.

Once upon a time, his poking might bother you. Now, you’ve played enough games with Wonwoo over the last two years to know better. It’s all in good faith, and it’s part of the joke, this ongoing way the two of you bicker and go tit for tat.

“I am nothing if not an accommodating teammate,” you offer back. Mingyu manages to get to the site, swinging wildly to check for enemies. “I’m a helper. I like to help people.”

“You can help me by shutting up,” Mingyu mutters.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echos, a smirk prominent in his voice. “Shut up.”

“No I’m talking to you too,” Mingyu assures. “And you did rotate without me and too early. So she’s right.”

That shuts Wonwoo up, a chorus of laughter echoing in the headset as your team watches Mingyu try and go for the clutch. Your laughter fades and you mute yourself on Discord in an attempt not to distract Mingyu, eyes flicking over to the comments flooding in on your stream.

It’s a rewarding feeling to see how many there are, donation notifications popping up on the top of your screen making your heart stutter a little. You can see Seokmin moderating as usual in the chat, reminding people the commands for frequently asked questions and removing anything weird.

There is a lot of weird.

“Thank you for the dono, Shaezy98. Yes, PiCheolwinning, I hit Immortal a few days ago! What do you guys think about doing a nonstop stream until I hit Radiant? Would that be fun?”

Resounding yes responses flood the comments. You grin, pulling your legs up into the chair to make small talk with the community you’ve so carefully built over the last few years. You see a suggestion in the comments that makes you laugh, leaning forward to unmute yourself in Discord.

“Hey Wonwoo,” you ask. “My chat wants us to try 1v1 where we customize each other’s settings. Thoughts?”

It’s a common question. People love the dynamic you and Wonwoo specifically have, enjoying seeing the friendly rivalry grow over the years. You can recall several streams you’ve done just playing together, hosting charity events and promoting new games as a dynamic duo.

Some wonder if you’re together. There’s no hard evidence, but there's chemistry there. A lightness to your banter that comes with a familiarity your fans try to piece together, a gentleness that sounds the edges of your insults to make sure the other knows your kidding.

Wonwoo lets out a deep hum. “You’re gonna go demon mode on my settings. Then I’d have to change them back.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’s worried about his settings, as if he can’t export them. “Is that a no?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides my fucked up settings and the risk you change all my weapon skins.”

Clearing your throat, you put on your best telemarketer voice. “The benefits to this offer are endless. For a limited time only, you can take advantage of quality time spent with me-”

“Not a benefit.”

You ignore his interruption, a vein in your forehead ticking at the comment. “You can protect your honor and pride as a gamer, and as a special early bird offer, I’ll give all donations from that stream to a charity of your choosing. Thoughts?”

Mingyu ends up losing the round, earning a resounding sigh and curse from everyone on the team. You move your mouse around to click through weapons and set yourself up for the next round. “They’re going to force,” you say, momentarily distracted from your sales pitch by strategy. “Wonwoo I can buy you a marshall.”

“Yeah.”

You make the transaction for him and drop the weapon so he can pick it up, noting the comments coming in from viewers.

NoLo88: See, she always does stuff for him - I swear they’re together!!!

EzBoyZ: No way would she date him.

NoLo88: Are you kidding? Have you seen Wonwoo? He’s like the hottest streamer ever.

LoLPog69: Ugh I hope they’re not dating, she’s better single.

“See, I’m fun. I’m nice. I’m a team player who helps win games. What do you say?”

“Fine, it’s a date.”

The way he so casually says it makes your stomach flip. You hesitate for a moment, blinking in surprise before you realize he’s said it without really thinking about it. Biting your bottom lip to fight a smile, you ask, “Oh? A date? Chat, is that rizz?”

“Oh fuck off,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to cover up his mistake. You can’t help it - your smile spreads as he rushes to gloss over what he said. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“He’s trying to rizz me, chat!”

“In your dreams.”

“You should change your tag from WonuWizard to WonuRizzard.” Wonwoo curses as he gets killed. You cackle, killing an enemy and taking their gun. “Oo, an operator. Do you want this, Wonwoo? What about changing your tag to RizzardOfOz?”

Wonwoo groans on the other end of the mic and you can imagine the way he pushes back in his chair, sinking a little further down as he spectates the match. “Yes, save the op for me, please. Also, get your chat out of mine. I’m going to get a Rizzstraining order.”

You note the way he says for me when he asks for the weapon you’ve picked up to keep for him. It is a favor to him, intended for him. Your viewers notice.

Seungcheol swears. “You two are insufferable to play with sometimes. We’re trying to win a game.”

Mingyu huffs. “Just stop Rizzsponding, Cheol. They’ll shut up eventually.”

With a laugh, you settle in and focus on the game. Even as the teasing dies down, you and Wonwoo fall into a comfortable give and take, working together to win the next few rounds and eventually, the entire match after Wonwoo closes out the game with an ace.

“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, stretching. It’s getting late at night, and you feel a little tired. “Mad Rizzpect, Wonwoo. Up your rizz game and maybe I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Up my rizz game?” His tone has shifted as everyone starts talking over one another, Seungcheol and Mingyu getting into it over something sports related. You’re focused on the soft purr of Wonwoo’s voice, though. The raspiness of it. “If I wanted to rizz you, I would.”

Fuck. His voice. You shift a little in your seat, clicking around your secondary monitor that is off stream to pull up Wonwoo’s stream. It loads, immediately showing his dark room with slow pulsing RGB lights in the background and shelving displaying different collectible items.

Wonwoo looks like he always does: leaned back casually in his seat, the glow of his computer reflecting in the lens of his black-frame glasses. Dark bangs hang in his eyes, the rest of his hair hidden by the hood that is pulled up over his head. He’s chewing on one of the strings of his hoodie as he talks to his chat, voice gentle.

His hoodie has a little animated version of him over the left side of the chest, the character winking and giving finger hearts. You feel your lips twitch - you always loved the little cartoon version of himself. As always, he looks totally at ease. It’s the same even in an intense game, Wonwoo never feeling the need to lean closer to the screen or showing the tension in his shoulders.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Except when you can force a rise out of him, of course.

A bunch of notifications flood in your chat. You look over to them, reading through them and grinning. You pull your mic toward you, shaking your head. “Ugh I have all the Wonwoo apologists in my chat defending your rizz.”

“Good” he shoots back. You watch in delayed time as he smirks on his end. He so rarely does a full smile, but you know it’s beautiful when he does. “You need to take Rizzponsibility for implying I have no rizz.”

“No way,” Mingyu gasps. “Two Wonwoo puns in a single night?”

“Puns and attempted rizz?” You ask, cocking your head. “Huge day for Wonwoo fans everywhere.”

“Again, that wasn’t rizz. You’ll know it when I use it.”

“Sure, sure. Or maybe you just… don’t have any.”

You watch the tick in Wonwoo’s jaw. A grin spreads across your face and you try to suppress it, knee bouncing in anticipation as you watch the minute changes in his expression. He drums his fingers on the armrest of his gaming chair, hypnotizing you for a moment. He has long, elegant fingers paired with a beautiful set of hands.

“You really think I have no rizz?” he asks, voice low and oh you know that voice. You suppress a shiver and shake your head ‘no’ before realizing that he can’t see you. Or he does - because he says, “Use your words like a big girl.”

If you weren’t on stream, your eyes might roll back in your head at the soft purr of his voice, the way in which he immediately switches gears, put out by your accusations that you already know are false.

And because you’re you, you push him a little more, interested to see where it goes. “Are you watching my stream, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“Mhmm. Trying to learn rizz, since apparently I have none. Go on, show the class. What have you got?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both ooo and quiet down, putting you on the spot. Heat tiptoes up your neck to your ears. Being a streamer by nature is being under the spotlight, especially when you have a high follower account. This is different though, the pressure suddenly flipped to you as your friends settle in, waiting.

“It’s all about the charizzma,” you joke, voice a little raspy. You swallow, eyes flicking to your secondary monitor where you can see Wonwoo watching his screen with a growing grin. “I can’t teach you how to have that, Jeon.”

“What can you teach me, Angel?”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. You know that commanding tone anywhere, the soft shift from teasing to something a little darker, a little sharper. He doesn’t care that you’re both on the screen for live viewers, that this will be recorded, or that you have friends on the call, who have taken a backseat to watch the fencing match.

And the angel. Sure, it’s a small part of your brand and gamertag, but the way Wonwoo says it implies something intimate. Darker. A gentle caress of the word against your skin.

When you come up with nothing, Wonwoo grins on screen, devastatingly handsome. He knows he’s surprised you. “Not a problem,” he quips. “I’m an excellent teacher. I can teach you how to rizzpond to a direct question.”

He surprises you by ending the stream suddenly. You blink in surprise, both Seungcheol and Mingyu calling Wonwoo’s name, assuming his internet has gone out or has been interrupted. With shaking hands, you remove one side of your headphones, listening. Heavy footsteps sound in the hall and you squeak, hitting the hotkey to show be right back on your stream.

Wonwoo stands in the doorway. He gives you a single, lopsided smirk before waltzing toward you, a predator stalking prey. His dark eyes are focused on you, drinking you in.

“Noooo,” you yell at him, giddy and panicked all at the same time. You hold your hands out to push him away but he links your fingers instead pressing his palms against yours and pulls you toward him. He jerks your computer chair toward him, your knees crashing against his. “Hiiiii.”

“No rizz, huh?” his voice is barely a murmur.

“Ummm,” you glance over to your set up where the be right back glows. Wonwoo follows your line of sight before dropping his gaze back to you, eyes asking a question. “Do you… want to?”

Elation falls across his face. “I’m down if you are. You know that.”

Chewing your lip, you smile and nod. You’ve long been planning to reveal that the two of you have been dating for a long time, and the present feels right. Not to mention the implication of him ending the stream and you slamming the be right back on at the same time.

Wonwoo leans down and grabs the arms of your computer chair, spinning it around and pushing you back into the frame. He leans over your shoulder, the smell of sandalwood and lavender enveloping you, making your head spin. He hits the hotkey to turn your stream and mic back on.

Your eyes drop to where you’re displayed in the camera, Wonwoo leans against the back of your chair, chest pressed to your shoulder as he grins at the camera. Your thighs clench, seeing that same cocky smirk you’re used to making a brief appearance on camera.

“Sorry chat,” Wonwoo announces. “Sorry Cheol, Mingyu. I have to handle the disrizzspect going on in my own home. Say byeeee to chat, Angel.”

“Byeeee,” you squeak on instinct, watching as he waves while your comments explode. He closes out the stream and cuts off the Discord call where Seungcheol and Mingyu are screeching, shutting down your computer entirely so there’s no chance for accidents.

Stomach fluttering, you take off your headphones and look up at Wonwoo to find he’s already staring down at you, dark eyes hungry. You slide down a little in your chair, feeling your mouth go dry. You got what you wanted, but now that he’s there and you can feel the intensity crackling between you, you can’t help but balk just a little.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching at the corner. “Rizz got your tongue?”

“I guess maybe you have a little rizz.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Wonwoo pulls your seat backward, spinning your chair around so that you face the bed. He lets go of the chair and walks backward, sitting on the edge of your bed. You stare at him, heart beating, breath quickening. “Now that there’s no one here I have rizz.”

You pout. “It’s our brand.”

“Mhmm.” He leans back on your bed, the mattress dimpling under his weight. He pats his thigh with one hand. “You just love getting under my skin, don’t you?”

You climb out of your computer chair, stumbling a little as the blood starts to flow from where they were crisscrossed. He tsks at you as you regain your footing, padding over to where he sits, legs spread, thighs straining against his athletic shorts.

Carefully, you climb into his lap. Your body buzzes as you settle over him, one knee on either side of his hips. You lean your weight into him, hands resting on top of his shoulders. Even through his hoodie, you can feel how warm his skin is.

“Are you happy now?”

“Huh?”

One of his hands leaves the bed and cracks against your ass, starling you. You squeak and lean forward, the sting making your eyelids flutter. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“I wasn’t.”

His hand kneads your ass through your shorts, soothing the sting from the slap. “I asked, are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted?” You nodded, letting your head hang down, burying your face in his neck. It’s warm and safe there, your thoughts sticky as his hand continues to explore your ass. “Remember when I said use your words like a big girl?”

“Yes. Yes, I got what I wanted.”

“And what was it you wanted?”

When you hesitate to answer, too focused on your slamming heart and stuttered breathing, his hand comes down across your ass again. You curse, melting into him, letting him bear your weight entirely. “Wanted to rile you up.”

“It worked.”

“I can tell.”

Wonwoo’s hand trails to the edge of your shorts, fingers dancing along your thighs. You’re hype aware of his touch and the way it sends fire through you, stomach in knots and cunt aching between your legs as he fingers the hem of your shorts.

“Is it okay that I interrupted your stream?”

The question is so much softer than he was a second ago. You lift your head to look at him. His face swims into focus, a momentary flicker of nervousness. Wonwoo is rarely impulsive, but the move to announce your rivalry is more romantic than most people knew was unplanned and spur of the moment.

“It’s definitely okay. Is it okay with you?”

He nods, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of your neck. He inhales, taking in your scent and humming while the hand running along your shorts pulls at the fabric. “Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset.”

“No. Now the people in your chat know you’re mine.”

“Yours?” His mouth brushes against the hollow of your throat, hot and wet. Your head tilts back, lips parting as his tongue flicks against your skin. “Just wanted to claim me, is that it?”

“Your fans are horny?”

He nips your neck and a moan drips from you. “Yours aren’t?”

“Not like yours.”

“Too bad for them. There’s only one angel who can get under my skin.” Wonwoo takes you by the waist and rolls you over. Your breath leaves you in a huff as your back hits the mattress. He leans over you, knees caging you in on either side of your hips as he presses his mouth to your jawline, sucking kisses up toward your ear. “Only one drawback - she thinks I have no rizz.”

You bring your hands to the hem of his hoodie, desperate to feel him. Sliding your hands under the fabric, you press your palms against his stomach, feeling his muscle flex as his skin warms your hands. His mouth is wet against your skin, teeth nipping your earlobe teasingly, drawing a raspy sound from you.

“I think,” you gasp as he drops a hand between your legs to press against your clothed cunt, “That she might be wrong about the rizz.”

Wonwoo’s fingers apply pressure, barely circling your clit through the fabric. It worsens the ache between your legs, your thoughts getting scattered as you squirm underneath him. He brings his mouth to yours, stealing a greedy kiss.

This is the part of Wonwoo that you know only you see. Where the calm and collected gamer turns into an all consuming force, stealing the breath from your lungs as his tongue presses against yours. You kiss him back with equal want, whimpering into his mouth as he presses his fingers a little harder against you.

“Please,” you breathe against his mouth between kisses. “I know I was mean but please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

“Are you, though?” He mouths down your neck to your collarbone, the sting of his teeth soothed by the rough pass of his tongue. “You got exactly what you wanted and more.”

“I ammmm.”

His laughter is rough. The hand between your legs comes up to the top of your shorts, dipping past the waistline to sink downward. He groans when he feels the dampness of your underwear, the way he’s already worked you up.

“No rizz,” he mutters to himself. You throb when you feel his fingers pull your underwear to the side, knuckles running up your wet folds where he stops at your clit to press down. Your nails scrap against his abs, body tensing under the stimulation. “This is a wet fucking fucking pussy for someone who has no rizz.”

You can’t think of a response, mind reeling as Wonwoo plays with you properly. You writhe in his hands, melting as his fingers brush up and down your slit before coming back up to gently circle your clit. Your feet kick a little under him, unable to sit still as he works you - teases you.

Fuck you realize he might do this all night.

“You have a lot of rizz,” you breath, pressing the back of your head into the bed, gasping in surprise as he sinks a finger into your entrance. Already you’re clenching down on him, wanting more. “Fuck.”

“I don’t know… maybe I just… lack what you need.”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just… ugh like that.”

The ease at which he knows how to touch you makes everything feel tenfold. Wonwoo knows you like the back of your hand, both intimately and mentally. What had started as two streamers annoying one another had turned into friendship at some point - you’d met him at a convention and realized he was far gentler and softer than you imagine.

That had turned into something further - something deeper. The want when you were around him was something that you hadn’t expected, but it hasn’t gone away since. Even though you get to have him like this, finger stroking your inner walls and palm pressed against your clit, you always want more. Can’t stop wanting him.

“Want,” you mutter, the only word you can think of. You feel the smile pressed against your skin, the wetness slicking his fingers as he presses in a second, stretching you. Your hips can’t off the bed but he pushes you back down, making you whine.

“Why should I?”

“Cause.”

“Not a good enough answer.”

Wonwoo starts to retract his hand and you scramble, digging your nails into his hip to claw him back toward you. “Cause I love you.”

“Closer…”

“Cause I want you.”

“So close.”

“Cause I need you.”

He hums in thought. “Good enough. Help me take these fucking shorts off.”

Wonwoo pulls his hand out of your shorts and leans upward. You rip your hands from his hoodie to slide your shorts off, peeling your underwear down as you do. He taps you on the thigh, fingers sticky from your arousal as he shifts higher. You know what he’s asking, scooting backward on the mattress to give yourself more real estate.

His mouth comes back down to yours, lips soft. You love kissing him, tongue tangling as you bring your hands up to slide your fingers through his hair. He makes an appreciative sound, one hand supporting his weight as he hovers over you while the other slots back between your legs to resume where he left off.

Unrestricted by your shorts, he’s able to thrust his fingers properly. Your gasps break his kisses, hips rolling to meet the stroke of his fingers. He’s always been skilled with his hands, able to peel you apart, pressing the pads of his fingers into that sweet spot over and over again.

His thumb presses against your clit, adding stimulation as he moves it from side to side slowly, aided by the wetness gathered there. You let yourself get lost in him, pressure tightening in your stomach as you climb toward an orgasm.

Your hands are everywhere - pulling at his hair, pulling at his shoulders, pulling at his arms. He lets you grip at him, lets you squirm beneath his ministrations, letting you have free reign. It’s a favor to you, in a way. He’s letting you get away with your earlier teasing, not drawing it out like he’s known to do, not making you beg.

Moans bracket the wet sound his fingers make in your cunt as he works you to the edge. Your breaths come out in short hisses behind clenched teeth and your thighs squeeze his hand. He’s unfettered, laughing roughly against your ear, breath hot.

“What would your chat say?” he asks. “Huh? What would they say if they knew you fell apart like this? That your cunt melts around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, so close to your orgasm that your ears are starting to buzz.

“All this time they thought we were frenemies. Have no idea I get to have you like this whenever I want.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, you’re gonna.” His fingers press harder, the pressure mounting further. “Gonna come all over my fingers, yeah? Just like you always do?”

You do.

Everything comes together in one, cohesive snap. You arch into him, muscles squeezing, teeth clenched, eyes shut. It feels good when you unravel, coming around his fingers as they fuck you through it, determind to extend your high for as long as he can.

Your breathing is ragged by the time you start to come down, shirt sticking to your skin and neck and face flushed as you try to escape him. He laughs a little, hand slowing until his fingers are still inside you, pressed deep.

When you open your eyes, the room is spinning. It takes you a second to focus on him. His head is hanging, gaze focused where his fingers are still shoved in your pussy. You can see your arousal shining on his wrist and feel where you drip down the curve of your ass.

“A lot of cum for someone with no rizz,” he notes, lifting his head to grin at you.

“Oh shut up.”

“Oh?”

He retracts his hand and you make a pitiful sound at the loss. He stands up, suddenly leaving you cold and shivering. He brings his fingers to his mouth absently, popping them between rosy lips as he sucks your fluid off easily, making an appreciative sound.

“I mean if you want me to leave-”

“No, no! No need for that.” He smirks. “You’re already… here and stuff.”

“And stuff.”

Rolling his eyes, he peels the hoodie up and over his head. You watch, suddenly entranced by the blue tint on his tan skin and the way his muscles flex when he leans to kick off his sweats. Wonwoo is beautiful, his body made up of equal parts streamlined edges and softness.

Sleeper build, you’d joke the first time you saw him shirtless. On stream, he’s always hidden in baggy shirts and hoodies. You’d never realized he was hiding a body that was at peak athletic form, oversized clothing giving way to rippling arms and a hard chest.

Naked, he shuffles back to the bed. You let him pull you out of your top, thankful for the warmth of his hands skating over your chilled skin. Your nipples tighten in the cool air, your toes curling at the sensation as you lay back on the bed and look up at him.

Haloed by blue light, Wonwoo looks like some sort of demon or angel. You’re not sure - perhaps he’s equal parts. His hands reach behind your thighs and lift, pressing your legs upward toward your chest. The stretch feels good but it also pries you open, making you writhe when you feel the weight of his cock on your pussy.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he murmurs gently. Your hands reach behind the back of your knees, pulling. He gives you a lopsided grin, leaning over you to press his weight into the backs of your thighs, helping. “Stay just like that, fuck.”

You do as he says. You have no other choice, especially when he presses the head of his cock into your entrance, sinking in slowly. You let out a loan moan shaped in his name as he presses in, the fit tight and the pressure delirious.

Wonwoo bottoms out, holding himself to you, hips to ass for a second. He presses in all of his weight, the mattress creaking under you as he does. He drops his chin to his chest, curses as he takes a few deep breaths, chest heaving.

You fuck him up too. You know it and you love it, watching as he looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, but still full of love. It simmers right at the surface, so obvious that you wonder how anyone could ever not see it when it’s right there.

Slowly, he starts to move. You suck in a breath, head falling to the side. Your fingers ache where you grip your thighs, knuckles shaking. A light sheen of sweat wicks your legs, making your hold slip a little. It’s okay, though. Wonwoo leans into you, keeping you pried open as his hips fuck into you at a steady pace.

Each thrust feels like it punches the air from your lungs. You draw in deep breaths when you remember, otherwise distracted with the way he crowds you in, crushing you to the mattress. The feeling of him is insane, your thoughts cobwebbing together, the only word you can think of being his name.

He pants, his arms scooping around your shoulders to pull you into him. A curse leaves your mouth. He’s got you folded in half, no escape from the drill of his hips, the air turning to static between you. Wonwoo is pressed close and you somehow wish you were closer, wanting to drop the grip on your thighs to hold him instead.

Wonwoo reads you like a book. “Go ahead,” he hisses between thrusts.

“Thank you,” you gasp, dropping your legs in favor of sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails scratching his scalp. You feel him shiver and you do it again, pulling his face to you so that you can brush your mouth against his, barely a kiss. “Fuuuuuuck, Wonwoo I-”

“I know.”

“Close close close.”

He doesn’t pick up his pace but he throws his weight into you more, fucking you deep and hard. You see stars, squeezing your eyes shut as you slide against one another, muscles aching, lungs screaming. You feel like you can’t breathe but you don’t care, skating the line of your second orgasm so close.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Your breath scrapes your throat. There is a moment of absolute nothing but white noise and then you’re crashing, slamming into your orgasm with enough force to knock your head with his when you lurch forward.

It doesn’t even hurt, the electric pleasure outweighing the knock to your head as his fingers dig into your shoulders, cradling you harder as he pistons faster, getting himself to peak. You go limp, held tilted back as he growls your name and loses a rhythm, breath hissing between his teeth.

For a moment everything is disjointed until he slows to a stop, letting you unfold but pressing his body down onto yours. His weight is comforting, grounding you as your thoughts wander, a little confused and without navigation as your system reboots from the orgasm, tired and staticky.

Wonwoo kisses your jaw lightly, a gentle contrast to seconds ago when he folded you in half.

Slowly, he slides to the side, giving you room to breathe. Your body is slick all over - especially between your legs - and the room cools your over-warm skin. You crane your neck to face him, eyes fluttering open as you come back to, a little more lucid.

His dark eyes find yours and he grins before tossing an arm over your waist just to keep you connected. You place your hand on his arm, returning the gesture, just wanting to touch him.

“I think I died,” you joke, voice rough. “God.”

“Yeah? Hey chat,” Wonwoo hums, a grin splitting his face. “How about that for rizz?”

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@jespecially @asyre @eoieopda @todorokiskitten @pyeonghongrie-main @sebbyswifu

IF YOU DO NOT SEE YOUR TAG HERE AND YOU REQUESTED ONE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG IS NOT WORKING.

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #wonu smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #wonu x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #why is tagging fics lowkey embarrassing

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st7rnioioss · 6 months

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ੈ‧₊˚ bags, clairo

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were doing a challenge for chris's girlfriends youtube. then you and matts song came on!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: swearing, fluff, very fluffy

a/n: i LVOE this request, thank so so much. btw, sorry if i misunderstood the thing and matt and the reader arent in a relationship HELP. anyway, i literally love bags by clairo so much.

this is based off this request!

───────── 🐇 You stood in the triplet’s kitchen with Madi and Chris’s girlfriend Nat, short for Natalie.

For Natalie’s channel, you were doing a “baking deaf, blind and mute” challenge, where one had a blindfold on, one with headphones on, and one with tape covering their mouth.

Nat introduced the video, immediately getting on with the challenge.

“MADI, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Nat laughed loudly, due to her sudden loss of hearing, almost falling backwards.

“Nat, I can’t fucking see!” Madi yelled back, trying to pour the flour nicely into the bowl. You stood beside them, uncontrollably muffled-laughing because of the duct tape over your lips.

You tried your best to help them, but it was very hard to do when you couldn’t communicate normally with them. From time to time, you took over Madi’s or Nat’s tasks, pushing her out of the way.

The triplets were sitting on the couch behind the camera. Chris was having the time of his life, watching his girlfriend terribly fail at baking a few cupcakes. Nick was for the most part on his phone or going back and forth from his room and the couch.

Matt was also having fun, watching you try to get Madi and Nat out of the way so you could stop them from pouring batter on the floor. You had always been just a tad bit closer to Matt than Nick or Chris, until he finally confessed his mutual feelings for you.

⋆

“Okay, so we just put the cupcakes in the oven, so now we’re going to work on the icing. I’m gonna be blindfolded, Madi’s is gonna be mute, and Y/n will be deaf. Alright, let’s start!” Nat clapped her hands, handing you the headphones.

You put your hair down, the headphones sitting comfortably. Nat grabbed her phone, turning on the song she had stopped mid-through.

You didn’t recognize the first song, the second one being “yes, and?” by Ariana Grande. For the most part, you were standing beside your two friends humming along, occasionally smiling at Matt who was looking at you. He smiled back at you, adverting his gaze back to the mixing-bowl with the milk and vanilla.

“MADI, YOU’RE SPILLING THE MILK.” You yelled way too loudly, grabbing Madi by her shoulders with one hand, the other one stabilizing the bowl.

⋆

One song later, Madi was mixing the icing together to a thicker consistency. Your headphones were silent for a second, before your favorite song, Bags by Clario, started playing.

“GUYS, I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!” You yelled, trying to jump along with the beat in the song. Madi and Nat completely took over as you danced along.

Matt looked up from his phone due to your yelling. Of course, he didn’t know what song was playing, but he was curious. You backed away from Madi and Nat, dancing along to Bags.

“EVERY SECOND COUNTS, I DON’T WANNA TALK TO YOU ANYMORE, AND” You laughed, singing loudly along. Matt’s face almost instantly lit up, due to this being your guys’s favourite song.

Almost everywhere you went together alone, Matt was listening to it with you (even when he was alone). On late-night car rides, cuddling in his room, or quietly singing in the triplet’s car videos, it was your song.

Your relationship was kept secret from the triplet’s fandom since Matt didn’t want you to receive hate or backlash. And you didn’t mind, as long as you both were happy, it was all that mattered. Currently, you have been going strong for two and a half years.

“ALL THESE LITTLE GAMES, YOU CAN CALL ME BY THE NAME I GAVE YOU!” Matt was beaming, staring in complete awe. If he wasn’t already madly in love with you, he was now.

Nat was continuously gently slapping your arm to stop you from dancing, but you didn’t budge. Almost like you were singing to Matt, you tried to point secretly at him, a smile immediately growing on your face as you locked eyes with him.

“CAN YOU SEE ME? I’M WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME,” You kept going, dancing, jumping, spinning, all sorts of expressions of excitement were expressed right then and there.

Nat and Madi had given up a long time ago, placing the rack with the cupcakes on the counter.

⋆

The following Thursday, Nat released the video to her channel.

You were cuddled up with Matt in your shared his bed, both mindlessly scrolling through social media. Matt was checking his Instagram, you on TikTok. One particular TikTok caught your eye.

An edit of you and Matt to Bags by Clairo. The clip of him mentioning the song in their Wednesday video, followed along by your singing.

You smiled to yourself, opening the comment section to find multiple people suspecting a possible relationship between the two of you. A bunch of people agreed, and a bunch of people turned it down.

You liked the edit, scrolling further, only to find more, more and more edits. Matt noticed your giggles, looking up from his phone to look at yours.

“Are you watching edits of.. us?” He smiled, putting his phone on his nightstand before turning back around to wrap an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, look. There’s a fuck ton of them. To Bags!” You smiled from ear to ear, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. Matt stared at you in awe, looking back at your phone to see more edits. He couldn’t stop smiling either, watching you so excited to see edits of you two to your favorite song.

“Oh my God, I love you,” Matt chuckled, pressing a few kisses from your forehead, down the side of your face.

“Matt, I lov- it- it tickles, stop!” You laughed loudly, the tickling sensation making you drop your phone. He couldn’t stop smiling, softly planting a kiss to your lips.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes glued on yours. “Can you send me that second one you showed me?”

⋆

a/n: i hope it lived up to your expectations arghhh, love the request once again, thank you thank you.

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn let me know if you'd like to be added!

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #Spotify

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godslino · 8 months

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MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan fic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz fanfiction #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan #stray kids #skz #first date series

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raisukujira · 9 months

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zosan being my favourite one piece disaster PART ONE (i’m actually still finding more stuff so it would be full series :””))

CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN THEIR GAY ASSES????😨

holding hands on official merch - straight dudes activity

zoro’s hand chilling between sanji’s legs

‘FUCK I NEED TO PROTECT MY BOYFRIEND— FUCK IT, I NEED TO PROTECT MYSELF USING MY BOYFRIEND’

lgbtqai community is chilling on the rainbow as always 🔥

okay but it’s actually kinda funny and extremely cute. Zoro is always careful when someone approaches him when he’s sleeping (this one scene with robin etc) but not the same thing with sanji. He let him sleep on his shoulder and still feel comfortable sleeping next to him

HEEEE CAAAAREEESSSSS

ZORO ALSO CAAAAAAREEEEESSSSS

marimo’s husband made him blush 😳😳

shhhhh! do not bother them when they are on their cute little date!

OKAY BUT IM SO HAPPY SEEING THEM HAVING SO MUCH FUN TOGETHER 🥺

#zosan #one piece #zoro x sanji #sanzo #sanzoro #gay #gay af

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jjenthusee · 2 months

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Handshakes And Trash Cans

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

a/n: simply, i wrote a lot and i didn’t wanna release it in parts, so i squeezed the entire fic here. I’ve been having fun writing small excerpts and then they turn into full fics. Jason deserves all the love, so i focused on a neighbors to lovers? No mention of vigilante stuff, but tons of domesticity. With some mentions of big brother Dick (i’m a firm believer that he’s the number one supporter of Jason and just wants the best for him), a bit of steaminess if u squint, and a very devoted Jason. leave me any comments if your comfortable sharing because i wanna know what u guys think XD and if you were crying screaming sliding down the wall like i was (also despite me still being in my repenting era, i wanted to release this as an early apology cause i wanna write another angsty drabble so maybe…maybe not look forward to that) ENJOY (link to the work before this one here)

word count: 7.1k

tags: pining, tons of fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, heartfelt confessions, big brother dick shenanigans

When you got your first two-bedroom apartment, you always thought the dream would only be possible with a roommate. You didn’t have much money during college and transitioning into a full-time job didn’t allow you to freely spend outside of necessities and rent.

But you did it. You got two bedrooms and you didn’t initially know what to do with the extra room. A hobby space, a library, a guest room, or an office? There were too many possibilities.

This was your space, so you combined it all. A basket to keep all of your current craft obsessions next to a bean bag, two full shelves of books from your childhood to your university years, and a desk in the corner to write. It was everything you hoped for. A spot to leave work out of, to decompress and remember the things that made you happy.

You were proud you did it on your own. You could enjoy solitude, your hard work and give time to prioritize yourself.

But an unexpected accomplishment came with an unexpected visitor. A handsome visitor no less. Maybe being an adult wasn’t so bad all the time.

…

But meeting new people was bad. Or you were bad at it.

When you were up at two in the morning, doing normal two a.m. activities like trying to turn your entire life around, you believed that dragging yourself to one of the community events at the apartment complex would help you get to know your neighbors. Then you could scope the scene to see if you wanted to hide forever or maybe have a friendly acquaintance you acknowledged in the hallway.

Now you wanted neither as you sat, alone, at a bar stool in the well decorated community balcony. Although you were distancing yourself from the main party, you couldn’t help admiring the string lights they hung up, the pristine décor, and new furniture. They clearly went through a grand renovation before you moved in.

Despite your need to socially decompress from all the small talk, you did feel mellow in the warm lighting, listening to the slow music you quietly hummed to.

The view was great from your table, you got to see from the edge of the balcony into the city view. Gotham City did have its moments and lots of outsiders tend to see all the bad that overruns it, but when the city is calm, it has its own virtue.

As you watched the sky line, a man also decided to join in, admiring the city lights. He stood farther from where you sat, leaning against the glass and steel railing. He was probably distancing himself from the party like you were. You could only see half of his face from your current angle and distance, but he was…charming. Broody and charming.

Gotham did have the best views, but staring was bad. A little bit of hope crept into your mind at the thought of a handsome neighbor living in the same apartment building.

Another pretty man joined him. Wow, you never realized that Gotham had a lot of great views. Maybe you needed to get out more, enjoy the scenery a bit.

The two beautiful men seemed to know each other. One more talkative than the other, but they seemed close. It was amusing watching the way they contrasted one another, a man clearly dragged to be here tonight and the other fueling himself with the night vibe.

As much as you wanted to continue to be nosy, maybe it was time to call it a night, it was late and you got enough of your pretty boy fill for the evening. Which would have been the plan if you didn’t make eye contact with the second model that blessed your eyes.

You nervously observed the charismatic man walking toward you with a bright friendly smile.

“Hello, I just wanted to ask if my brother—the tall very alone one standing over there—could be tall and very alone over here, in this seat.” He dragged the stool out from underneath the glass table you were resting your arms on.

You looked at the empty seat across from you, then glanced at his presumed brother you were staring at earlier. He clearly didn’t agree to this sudden turn of events as he watched the two of you talk and he looked more mortified than you were. It was…cute. It brought a smile to your face.

“Well, your tall and very alone brother looks scared of me.” You glanced back to the man still holding the chair out.

Your comment must have been hysterical at the way the man was almost leaning forward from laughing. His dimples fully visible and his hair falling forward. Everything he did looked stunning.

“I promise he’s friendlier than he looks.” He breathlessly held his stomach still amused at your first impression of his broody brother. “He’s tall, alone, and friendly if it helps.”

You thought for a moment, debating on your options: leave or sit with a handsome man in possibly awkward silence.

“I don’t mind being alone together.” You smiled more, giving into the curiosity of the man leaning against the railing.

You were a simple human and apparently the man in front of you was too when he ushered his brother over. A man much too large for the bar stool, but you got a good look at his full face.

The curls, defined dark eyebrows, a white streak. His face had definition, a particular beauty that differed from his brother. Not less beautiful, but you were more drawn to the rougher look.

You definitely made the right choice.

Before you had any time to say anything, the conspirator left to go mingle with another bunch of attendees. You watched him hop from one conversation to another, you didn’t know whether he knew them or he just met them like you had five seconds ago.

“I think social anxiety is scared of him.” You laughed in disbelief to your new companion.

“Trust me, you have no idea. I’ve seen him wear some of the most horrendous outfits in public, willingly. What’s worse is—I hate to admit it—but he can pull it off, in a horrifying way.” The stranger shook his head, no mortification in his voice, and you almost unconsciously lulled to the sound. “But he means well, uh, sorry he dragged you into whatever he’s planning. I could leave you alone, he tends to unintentionally be pushy.”

Oh? Broody, charming and thoughtful. Was the bar low or were you easily impressed? Maybe the husky voice is blurring the distinction.

“No, it’s okay, he seemed worried about both us being ‘very alone’ as he put it.” You spoke, glancing into the eyes of the man in front of you. Greenish blue. A wave of amusement washed over you and with the most serious expression you could muster, you decided to test the waters. “From one alone person to another, let’s be alone together.” You reached out your hand to introduce yourself.

He coyly smiled at your formal gesture, leaning in to mimic your movement. You were both leaning onto the glass table, close enough to see the slight scaring on his face. Faint enough to see them only if you were close enough, wanting to drag your thumb across them.

His warm hand engulfed yours. Calloused. A firm handshake.

“Jason, alone man, and been alone for twenty-one years.” Jason gave you the most breathtaking smile, never letting go of your hand. “I’m looking forward to this opportunity…alone, of course.”

You laughed, almost giggled from how charming this man was.

“It’s been twenty-three alone years and still counting.” You mischievously smirked, glad he joined in on your antics. “I’m glad to let you join the team. I expect great things from you.”

“And I hope to learn a lot from my superiors, I’ll be in your care.” Jason’s voice was so low at the end of his statement. It caught you off guard that you almost missed the way he held onto your hand just a tiny bit longer than you anticipated. So short that you felt like you imagined it.

The warmth still lingered on your hands after you let go.

You were so engrossed in Jason’s company and Jason only had the eyes to look at you, that neither of you could see the man, who schemed your interaction, was beaming from watching the connection spark.

…

That single handshake and nonchalant agreement that you shared with an unknown neighbor actually kept it’s promise. That evening, you found out that Jason lived on the same floor as you did, that his brother visited him a lot, and he took out the trash on Wednesdays.

He didn’t tell you the last one, but you found out the last bit of information by accident when you bumped into him on your way back from the trash room. You thought the evening you met Jason would be the first and last time you would see him, but your laziness prevented you from taking out the garbage on your designated day and you were graced with seeing his lopsided smile as you passed him in the hallway.

You were so giddy from the surprise and seeing Jason’s captivating smile, you tested your luck and took the trash out on the same day and time the following week.

You listened out in the hallway, trying to hear a door open, it was honestly crazy behavior, but you continued your slow pace, but with no tall alone man in sight and a defeated sigh, you walked to the trash room with no Jason by your side and swung the door open.

Like a beam of light cascading over you, the man in question was standing in front of you, opening the trash shoot. You never thought a man in a trash room would be sexy, but with his shirt tightly straining on his body, a flushed face, and his muscles eye level with you, anything was possible.

May whoever told this gorgeous man to live at this apartment complex eat delicious meals, have working phone chargers, and a lifetime of happiness.

Somewhere off in the far distance, Dick sneezed.

You almost forgot the reason you were in the trash room after you set your eyes on Jason’s post-workout state. He kept the shoot open for you and with unsteady steps you threw your trash bag to disappear to the unknown. You were trying to not trip up with Jason’s defined arm holding the handle open and the close proximity of his chest to your face.

Maybe you need to go on a run. Why were you acting like this right now?

“Hey, neighbor.” Jason casually spoke to you. His voice felt airy, probably winding down from the exercise. “You come around here often?”

You cleared your mind from any thoughts, the trash room was not the place to start flirting, but what were you supposed to do when Jason started it? Or what you assumed to be flirtatious conversation.

“Nah, I’m new to town.” You glanced over to him, leaning your neck back to grasp his full height. Jason hadn’t missed the movement, combing your collarbone with his gaze. “But, I might stay a while.” You melodically spoke.

Before your stare and voice settled in the air, you stepped to the side to add a little distance between the two of you. Pulling away from the tension.

“Just so I can continue my alone things.” You explained trying to smoothen the mood with a playful tone.

Jason stayed quiet like he was contemplating something in his mind. Then he let the trash shoot close and with small steps the both of you walked out into the hallway.

“What alone things do you have planned tomorrow?” Jason nonchalantly asked, so casually you almost thought you heard wrong.

“Uh, work in the morning, but nothing planned for the evening, I wanted to try out a new cookie recipe.”

“Do you wanna come over to my place—I wanted to cook something for dinner, but it just hasn’t worked out yet. Maybe you can bring those cookies?” Jason didn’t look at you, suddenly interested in the pure white walls of the hallway. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

You were stunned. How was such a beautiful man asking you to come over to his place with the promise of him cooking you dinner and all you had to do was bring your shitty cookies?

“I want to warn you that my cookies aren’t award worthy. I just follow the recipe, they’re nothing special.” You wanted to ensure that Jason was really inviting you over.

“Then I can’t wait to try your ‘nothing special’ cookies.” He reassured.

…

You spent the entire afternoon making sure your measurements were precise, not a lump of flour above the rim of the measuring utensils you haven’t brought out in a while. Usually you winged the ingredients, not really worried about the quality too much since it was just you.

But now you wanted to cry.

How did you properly fold ingredients, were you whisking right, maybe you should’ve got the too expensive butter from the store?

It took three full hours to prep, bake, and try your hand at cutely packaging the cookies. It took four attempts to arrange the cookies in a way that didn’t make you want to cancel the dinner.

But after a few pep talks in the mirror and reassuring yourself that this was a hang out and not a date, then you were able to walk over to his unit number.

You hesitantly knocked on the door, five minutes after seven because you would torture yourself thinking about arriving right on the dot before you fell asleep tonight and every night after.

Your worries left your mind when you saw Jason open the door in an apron.

“You’re just in time, I’m ready to plate everything.” He beamed.

Your heart might not be able to survive tonight. But it was just dinner.

You awkwardly handed Jason your tin of homemade cookies. You tried to limit your snooping around his apartment when he told you to wait for him to get the drinks, but curiosity was coursing through you once you realized that you were being invited into a part of Jason’s life and home.

You were no longer going to be strangers. You didn’t know if this qualified to make you friends, but you knew you were two people about to eat dinner together. A dinner he made and cookies you made as thanks.

Once you were ready to eat, you stared at your plate filled with spices, fresh veggies, a meticulously cooked entrée and a…homemade lemonade? You stared up at Jason, watching you look at his food.

“I feel like bringing you cookies isn’t enough.” Although you felt guilty, you took a bite because you didn’t want to look at one more second of Jason’s shining eyes.

You could only sigh, which made Jason worry.

“I think I’m going to name my children after you.”

Jason chuckled at your exaggeration.

“I’d be honored.”

The rest of the meal was relaxing. You didn’t have to force yourself around Jason. Your conversation flowed easily and you were interested in learning about the man you met on the balcony.

…

After many trips to the other side of the apartment building and a couple of deep cleanings of your apartment, you got accustomed to having Jason walk around your kitchen, rummaging the cabinets and organizing your spices the way he likes it.

One shared meal after another. Sometimes several times a week or spaced out further when work got busy. It was nice to look forward to a meal with Jason.

Now you had text messages from him on your phone, a designated mug for him, and a couple of his snacks that he wanted you to try.

You traded recipes. Jason gave you his favorites and you mainly just gave him ones you were curious about, not very fond of your kitchen.

After several failed attempts at convincing him that it was your kitchen that was the problem and not your ability to cook, he came over more to prove you wrong.

Now you sat at your kitchen island to watch him concentrate on mixing an assortment of spices and herbs while you memorized as much of his face and hands as possible. The TV was on, but you had no interest in whatever movie played.

“I have a confession to make.” You sadly looked at Jason.

He glanced over from the pan on the stove to your face. Confusion in his eyes from your sudden change in tone.

“I actually don’t really like cookies.” You threw your hands up in a guilty pose. “Now it’s eating me inside that I had to give those to you when I first came over to your place.”

Jason hummed and tilted his head with one of his eyebrows raised in a teasing manner.

“So, the guilt finally got to you, huh?” He grinned moving his attention back to the food cooking in front of him. His nonchalant voice resonating around you.

“I can’t sleep at night anymore.” You exaggerated, walking a little closer to his side. “Well, once you became my personal chef I realized I had to make it up to you.” You could smell the food better now that you were standing next to Jason.

“I can see the guilt in your eyes.” He flatly said watching you eyeing the food.

“We always eat when we hang out and I can make simple foods, but if I can follow a recipe I was going to suggest if I should cook something, but you are also here to prove me wrong that my kitchen isn’t cursed. Which it is by the way—”

“Your kitchen is not cursed.” He warmly scolded you. “I’ll come over everyday to prove it if I have to.”

You always had to reset your brain when he used that tone with you. It just felt too…sincere. Too intimate.

You wanted him to come over everyday. You took a breath.

“I make more money than when I was still in college, but I don’t think I can afford that many grocery bills.” You teased him. “Why do you think I go over to your place?”

You wanted to evade any serious topics and humor was the best at evading. You were good at avoidance.

“So, I’m a free pantry to you?” His eyebrows rose, questioning you. “I knew you were using me!” He faked a flabbergasted voice like he just heard his life-long partner declare they were cheating on him for months.

He turned off the stove, covering the pan with the lid and turning to face you.

“I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened.” You gave him your best dejected look. “I promise I’ll pick up more shifts to help restock your fridge, but let me just taste your homemade ravioli one last time.” You begged as he moved closer to you, closing you in with the kitchen island behind your back.

His height and broad shoulders easily caved you in. You gulped watching his face lean down and inch closer.

“If I can’t trust you with my fridge, you don’t deserve my ravioli.” He lowered his voice, gazing down at you with a look that made you breathless. You couldn’t move with the counter behind you and Jason hovering dangerously close to you. “But, you can make it up to me.” He brought his thumb to your chin, barely a wisp of touch.

“How?” You stammered, wondering if the bit was still going.

“Let’s go to the farmer’s market tomorrow.” His hand moved from your face to the edge of the counter, close enough to touch your side and his voice returning to normal, but he didn’t pull away.

“Okay, uh, I’m off tomorrow.” You stared, darting your eyes between Jason’s eyes. Trying to adjust to the tension that was radiating off of him.

“Good, foods ready.” Jason pulled away, moving to the cabinet to grab your glass plates. He was too familiar with the layout of your kitchen.

That night you quickly learned how easy Jason was able to turn the tables. Your racing heart and shallow breathing were the only evidence of it ever happening.

…

The heat beat down on you. Of all days for Gotham to finally clear it’s clouds, it chose today.

Although you weren’t fond of the warm air, you liked watching all the colorful tents, the food on display, and seeing the various local products. Everything looked intricately cared for and it brought a proud feeling to contribute to the locals.

“Bags?” Jason asked, going through his mental checklist.

“Check.” You raised the reusable grocery bags in your hands.

“Hats?”

“Check.” You nudged the baseball cap on your head.

“Money?” Jason smirked.

You grabbed onto Jason’s bicep. Giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Check.” You grinned up at Jason looking at the placement of your hand. “Now let’s go!” You gleefully led him to the first tent with your hand still on him.

You had no idea how you ended up carrying all the bags, but you were trying to ease your mind that this could be considered a date. Jason didn’t call it that and you never asked to clarify, but you couldn’t help it itching at your brain.

You didn’t want to label anything, out of respect for Jason and what he wanted, but you noticed he had started to touch you more and the contact makes you giddy that you had to put all of your focus on making sure you don’t drop his produce.

You stood by Jason, looking at various jars of loose leaf tea. He was smelling all the aromas, helping to move the jars to your nose, so you could smell them too. He insisted on helping you since you refused to give him a bag, but you also didn’t have a free hand to grab the jar.

After a couple more sniff tests, he settled on a jar of prickly pear tea, a lemon-ginger flavor, and he was contemplating on some earl grey cookies. You were watching him, entranced by his concentration. His brows lowered, a small line appearing between his brows. You could see more of his face with a cap on, no messy curls on his forehead and his side profile was really something.

You broke out of your trance when he offered you a piece of the earl-grey cookie, holding it in front of your mouth.

“They’re free samples, try it.” He looked at you, waiting patiently. “I know you don’t like cookies, but these are made with the tea sold here. I saw all the tea you keep in your pantry, so I think you would like it.”

In your lost state at this man in front of you, that could’ve sounded like a proposal to you at that point.

You inched forward, opening your mouth for the cookie. You hesitated at the intimacy, but how could you tell that face ‘no.’ Staring at the small piece of cookie, baked a quarter of the original size they sold, you also saw all the scars that littered Jason’s hands. Many healed over, but you could see the faded lines.

You dangerously wanted to kiss each one.

You grabbed the piece in your mouth, but you didn’t realize that you accidentally touched Jason’s finger with your lip.

You quickly glanced at Jason, but his eyes were glossed over. His attention focused on your mouth.

What a sight.

You chewed and hummed. They were good. Jason cleared his throat at your approval.

“I’ll get a bag and the tea. I’ll be back. You can put the bags down for a bit because there’s a small line.” He quickly turned around, a small tinge of redness left on his ears with his head turned away from you.

You watched his back walk away, then settled the bags down to give your arms a break.

“Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you that you two are adorable.” A honeyed voice spoke trying to grab your attention.

Your head whipped back to the table of teas. An older lady restocking the various collection had a mischievous look in her eye. You hadn’t noticed her there at all.

“The way your boyfriend looks at you, I haven’t seen a look like that since my husband passed many years ago.” The lady gushed.

“Wha, no, I—“ You stammered, trying to clear up the confusion, but your flustered face must’ve amused the woman.

“That made my day, so I wanted to give you this lemon bar we just started selling. Go on, take it and share it with him.” She pressured you to take the free treat. You were too speechless to try to refuse it and insist that you pay before she placed it in your hand herself and she walked off to help another customer wanting a sample.

Your face felt hot and you hoped it cleared before Jason came back, but before you could fan the redness away he appeared next to you with his purchase.

“Hey, you okay? Where’d you get that lemon—”

“Let’s get some lunch!” You grabbed the bags and nudged him to the food trucks lining the edge of the market, trying to hide your face with your hat and leaving the comments from the woman behind.

…

“Wow, this might be the best empanada I’ve ever had.” You chomped at your lunch.

Jason found a waffle place and settled on a berry topping. It was wrapped perfectly to fit in his hands.

You sat across from Jason at an outdoor table with an umbrella to shield you from the sun, sitting away from the rush of people lining up to also eat. The midday lunch rush got to you and you wanted to have a bit of privacy before you went back home.

“How long have you known about this place?” You asked Jason, a slight breeze grazing your face. Watching a kid nudging his dad for a piece of banana bread he found on one of the vendor’s tables.

“Last year? It was recent, but I’ve heard it’s been around for a while. Maybe over five years?” Jason took a bite of his waffle.

“I wish I had found this during my university years. This is a bit out of the way of my walk route, but it would’ve been awesome to browse with my friend.” You saw the boy you were watching earlier smiling wide as he held his dad’s hand and the banana loaf as big as his head. You smiled at the interaction.

“But I probably would’ve sent my friend into shock.” You continued, the boy and his dad disappearing into the crowd. “I wasn’t very social during my university years.” You glanced at Jason, his waffle gone and he was neatly folding the wrapper.

“My friend would joke that I would only meet someone if they magically met me at home. Like that was the only way I could score a date.” You pitifully joked at the old memory. “Sounds absurd doesn’t it, but she wasn’t wrong—“

You saw a shift in Jason’s eyes. He had an oddly serious look, it stopped you from talking and you sat up straighter, wondering what he was thinking about.

You waited, watching him internally fight with whatever he wanted to say.

“That’s not true.” He hesitated. “You’re funny, you’re able to connect with others, you’re a great listener, and you’re honest. You don’t have the heart to be mean to others and your facial expressions are adorable.” His voice rose the longer he defended you. His serious expression further amplified with his furrowed eyebrows. A part of his face obscured by his cap, but you felt the raw emotion emanating from him.

“Anyone would be enamored with you, even if they met you in the hallway or walking down the street.” He puffed, crushing the waffle paper on the table.

You were surprised, glancing over at Jason, watching him get this frustrated. You realized you’ve never seen him this…emotional and he refused to look at you.

The sudden development and his clear thoughts about you stunned you. You joked with Jason how alone you both were, it even brought you together thanks to his brother, but you didn’t really know how alone he truly was. You don’t think he really understood how lonely you were too.

You enjoyed your shared meals, you craved his time and attention.

You got so used to his presence that the days you didn’t see him, you felt like you were dreaming. Waiting to wake up when you heard that familiar knock on your door.

Your heart raced and you hoped he cherished your time together like you did.

You didn’t want to assume his witty personality as being flirtatious, you didn’t want to misunderstand any of his intentions because he was funny, charming, and awkward in ways that you just wanted to grab his face and protect him.

You didn’t particularly need Jason as your person, that felt too selfish, but you also wanted to be somebody to him. Either next to him or from a distance.

A friend, a companion, a lover. The label didn’t really matter to you because you were open to any role. A lover wasn’t more significant than a friend would be. They both had the same foundation, to care for someone unconditionally.

You convinced yourself that you were happy alone, but not until recently you realized you weren’t living. You were asleep in the routine of life.

And when Jason entered your life, you felt like you woke up for the first time.

Like he was the only one who could wake you up.

All you knew was that you wanted to be there. Through his pain, his suffering, his happiest moments, his accomplishments, his anger. To be his person.

To also help him wake up.

Your silent contemplation made Jason panic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get worked up—“

“I think apartment community events count.” You softly whispered, indecisive of whether you wanted him to hear you or not.

“What—“

“And secret meetings in the trash room too.” Your voice meek.

You were shaking, too tense to look at his reaction to your words.

“Despite what she told me, I still managed to meet you. And I was able to have some of the best meals. I’ve never laughed as hard as I have when we joked. I’m able to try new things.” You raised your head, overwhelmed by your feelings, but you hoped to convey yourself properly to Jason. “I’ve never felt so comfortable and safe with anyone else.”

Jason looked at you wide eyed and speechless, his mouth slightly agape. You took the disbelief as a sign to continue.

“I’m able to be all those things that you said because I’m with you.” Your voice filled with more resolve the more concrete your feelings felt, the more sure you became. You squeezed your eyebrows together, complete sincerity in your gaze, your heart filled with so much emotion.

But your eyebrows relaxed once you saw Jason’s face turn red. His ears a crimson shade. Before you could engrave it in your memory, he tilted his head down, covering his face with the front of his baseball cap.

“Wait, wait, wait—I didn’t expect this.” Jason rubbed a hand down his face, but the redness contrasted the skin of his hand. “You were so shy every time I tried to push the boundaries between us, but now your directly confessing everything at once.”

He stopped rubbing his face and rested his hand on the table. Meeting your gaze, a tint of red still on his skin but not as deep as before.

“I’ve been trying to get closer to you. I’ve been hoping to run into you since we first talked on the balcony. When we met in the trash room, I purposely tried to meet you again. I’ve looked forward to every meal I’ve cooked for you and although I haven’t been clear about my feelings, I didn’t want to pressure or rush you.” Jason took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

When they opened again, his eyes were completely focused on you.

“I want us to be more than friends…I want to be able to come over when I miss you, fold laundry together, buy you things when they remind me of you, I want you to call me when you need car maintenance.” He kept his eyes trained on you, but his voice faltered. “I want to hold your hand and to kiss you. I want us to go on dates.”

You raised your hand to the table, placing your hand over Jason’s, but he quickly flipped your hands so he was holding yours a little more firmly.

“I want to know if you snore while you sleep, to have your things at my place, so I see you in every inch of my life. I want you to know how much I’ve fallen for you.”

“I want that too.” Your voice trembled. “I’ve been wanting to hold your hand while we walked today and I want you to come over more often.” You choked as Jason leaned in to caress your face with his hand. A sickening sweet touch that you never knew you would get to feel. You cupped your hand over his.

“I’m so happy. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.” Jason whispered to you, his voice so honey sweet.

You looked up to him. A gentle gaze reflecting back.

“I probably look like a mess right now.” You shakily laughed.

“Of course not, you’re breathtaking, sweetheart.” Jason rubbed a thumb on your cheek, completely enamored by you.

“As much as I would love to hear you continue, I’m worried about the stuff you bought and this heat.” You tried to focus, but the smooth touch of Jason was difficult to ignore.

“Yeah, we probably need to make our way back.”

Despite his words, he didn’t move. He lingered on your face a while longer before he looked at all the bags he accumulated this morning.

“Will you let me help you carry some of the bags?” He asked. “I also want to hold your hand on the way back.”

You beamed at him. Reaching for his hand as you stood up.

…

Your walk back was refreshing.

You were exhausted from the intense flux of emotions you released, but Jason’s grip on your hand stabilized you.

You couldn’t stop smiling, the heat no longer bothering you. You swung your interlaced hands to the motion of your steps and Jason let you do what you wanted as long as you still held on.

When you got to the entrance of your apartment building, you were graced with the AC hitting you. Your hair would definitely be messed up from the sweat and your cap.

You waited in front of the elevator doors as it descended from the last person that used it. The lobby was empty, except from the usual leasing office workers inhabiting the space, but it was just you and Jason off to the side.

As you glanced around, making sure the employees were occupied, you used your grip on Jason’s hand to pull him down enough for you to kiss his cheek. A little awkward with your cap in the way, but you were able to surprise Jason.

He stayed hunched forward, shifting his face to look at you closely and digest what you did.

Ding. The elevator doors opened and you pulled Jason in the elevator.

You felt accomplished as you pushed the button to your floor. When you moved back to Jason’s side, you looked up to him, but he grabbed your face.

His hand pushed your cap up, so he could lean in and kiss you. His hat also moving up at the angle he was in.

You closed your eyes, disoriented at the feeling and because Jason completely blocked your view of the elevator, so you only heard the doors close.

Lost in the feeling and the movement of his lips, you dropped the bags in your hand to grab at Jason’s sleeve, wanting to grasp at something.

You’ve never felt so desperate to get Jason even closer and he must have understood or he craved it more because he pushed you back against the elevator wall. You felt the cold metal against your back and you gasped.

Jason devoured the sound, motivating him to hold your waist, but it wasn’t enough for him. He crouched a little lower to grasp you behind your legs to lift you fully off the ground, inching your body up, higher and more level with his face.

The angle changed and you easily wrapped your arms around his neck while simultaneously wrapping your legs around his waist. The moment intensifying as you pulled at his hair below his hat and you swallowed the low groan that left his mouth. You were drawn to the deep sound and the feeling of the hum you felt on your mouth.

You were practically flush against his body and you were down to your last few breaths, but you didn’t want to pull your face away from Jason.

You nipped at his lower lip and he lifted his hands to cup the sides of your face, digging his fingers into your sweaty hair and rubbing the back of your ears. You opened your mouth wanting to feel more of him when you heard someone loudly clear their throat.

You pulled away, shoving Jason by his shoulders as he whipped his head to see where the voice came from. You fell to your feet trying to lean against the wall with the sudden motion, hair a mess with your cap lopsided as you looked past Jason to see Dick standing there with a hand on his waist and the other holding the elevator door open. He didn’t look at the two of you directly, more like a lost look to the side.

You breathlessly adjusted your cap as you frantically smoothed out your shirt.

Jason pulled his cap down as he sighed then redirected his attention to you, gently reaching out to you to smooth out some of your hair and help you stand up straighter. Then he grabbed the bags you both dropped on the floor as he turned around to face his brother.

“I didn’t know you were coming over. You should’ve texted.” Jason walked past his brother, annoyance laced in his voice.

“I did.” Dick replied. He looked at you then followed after Jason. “But it seems you were a little occupied.” Amusement coating his voice and visible in the way he walked.

“I see you’re getting to know your neighbors very well.” Dick teased, a giant grin on his face. “I’m glad.”

What a way to meet Jason’s brother again after all this time. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you away from the lack of awareness you had to make out with Jason in public.

You couldn’t decide if it was worse that a stranger could’ve saw you or that Dick was the one who did.

“Yeah, yeah, come inside.” Jason unlocked the door to his apartment. You nervously followed after the two.

“No seriously, I’m glad you two continued to see each other.” A genuine comment from Dick. “I’ve never seen you so comfortable with someone, Jaybird.”

A small hum from Jason as he set the bags down onto the counter.

With no indication that he wanted to speak further, you decided to talk.

“I’m sorry we’re meeting again like this. I promise I’m usually a better influence.” Hopefully your lighthearted tone would give off a better impression than the one on the elevator.

“Ha! I know you are because,” Dick moved in closer, lowering his voice. “This is the most behaved I’ve seen Jason in months.”

“Alright, enough, dickwa—Dick,” Jason cleared his throat. “But we just got back and I want to shower. It was too damn hot today.”

“Oh, I bet it was—“

“Thank you! Never come by again. See you. Good Night.” Jason raised his voice, shoving his brother out the door.

“No, please, I swear I’m done!” Dick pleaded as he was trying to hang onto the door frame, but Jason closed the door before he could start to beg.

“Are you sure he’ll be alright?” You questioned Jason.

He didn’t bother to answer your question as he closed the space between you and wrapped his arms around you, resting his forehead on your shoulder and letting his hands intertwine around your waist, falling onto your lower back.

Jason signed into your shirt. The feeling slightly tickling you.

“I wasn’t done earlier.” He whispered against you. “Then that dickhead had to interrupt.”

You laughed, loving the pouty sound of his voice.

You embraced him back, leaning your head against his.

“I think the elevator interrupted you.” You rubbed his back in soothing circles.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting a silence fall in Jason’s apartment before your curiosity got to you.

“Jaybird?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“It’s cute.”

“Enough about him, we need to put away all the stuff we bought.” Jason lifted his head to sullenly look at the numerous bags.

“That reminds me.” You let go of him to dig around the bags, trying to find your earlier gift. “I was told to share this with you by an older woman who thought my boyfriend was adorable.”

Jason shifted behind you. Closing his hands on the edges of the counter, both of his arms on your sides. Once you found the lemon bar, you turned your body, careful to lean against the counter with Jason’s body still in front of you, around you practically.

“It’s a new product. She said I could have it for making her day, but I have to thank you because we wouldn’t have gotten it without you.”

You opened the wrapper, breaking a piece off to feed to Jason.

“How does it taste?”

Jason lingered. You anticipated what he thought, but he leaned forward to kiss you. You held onto the lemon bar, but lowered it the more heated your kiss became. The tangy taste invading your mouth.

“Amazing.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #writing #almost threw up cause of the fluff

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fxrmuladaydreams · 9 months

Text

back off (sv5) (dr3)

pornstar!seb x pornstar/camgirl!reader , pornstar!daniel x porstar/camgirl!reader

summary: seb isn’t happy when he finds out that you’ve become intimate with daniel, and daniel isn’t happy when he finds out seb isn’t going to give you up

prev part next part

Sebastian feels like he’s been staring at the screen of his phone for days now.

I’ve been spending so much time with Daniel lately

He’s reading the words over and over again, as if they’ll change at some point. When he gave you Daniel’s phone number he really only expected you to film a video or two with him, not to become close with him.

Sebastian figured you clearly weren’t in the mood to talk to him either, seeing as his last few texts went unanswered, so he decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.

You’re surprised to see Sebastian standing on the other side of your door when you answer it, a nervous smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hands.

“Sebastian, what are you doing here?” You ask.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” He shrugs. “These are for you.” He thrusts the flowers into your hands.

“Thank you… Come in.” You step to the side so he can come inside.

He takes slow, cautious steps in, as if afraid he’ll overstep.

“You know, usually if someone doesn’t respond to texts it means they don’t want to talk.” You tell him as you find a vase for the flowers.

He feels bad being here, but tries to keep his cool. “You don’t want to see me schatz?” He pouts.

You sigh. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to see me.”

Your words feel like a punch to the gut. “I always want to see you.” He says quietly.

“Then why did you push me away?”

He stares at you, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I can’t put up with you like this Seb. You can either stay here and be honest with me, or you can keep this wall between us and leave my house.” You cross your arms over your chest.

His lips move for a moment, he’s trying to think of the right way to string his words together.

“I was nervous. I felt like things were too much, moving too fast.” He takes a step towards you. “But I’ve sorted myself out now. I want to be close with you.” He practically whispers.

You take a small step back, keeping that small bit of distance between you. You’re too afraid you’ll quickly fall under his spell again if you don’t.

“We can become close again. As friends.” You tell him.

He gives you a small nod. “Friends. Can friends offer to buy you lunch?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face.

You can’t help the smile that starts to appear on yours. “Friends can get lunch together, yes.”

“Good. Lunch it is then.”

He takes you to lunch in his car, letting you pick the music. It’s very reminiscent of your drive to the filming studio. He keeps stealing glances and you keep pretending not to notice.

Everything seems effortlessly easy with Sebastian. You quickly fall into rhythm with each other, a slightly flirty banter used to communicate with each other.

He pays for your meal, even after your insistence that he doesn’t have to.

“I’m just being a good friend schatz.” His tone is teasing, but he doesn’t like the way the words feel on his tongue.

He wants to be able to sweep you up in his arms and plant a kiss to your lips, but he remembers what you said about kissing. How it was something personal, that it belonged to you. He was just going to have to fight to earn it from you.

He drives you back to your house and joins you inside for a movie. While you start on opposite ends of the couch, by the time the movies over you find yourself curled up against the German man.

He almost wants the movie to never end. He wants to stay here with you in his arms forever. We wouldn’t be mad if you happened to fall asleep against him.

But when the credits roll you sit up, peeling yourself away from Sebastian, who tries to fill the space between you.

“I had fun today.” He tells you.

You nod, giving him a soft smile. “Me too. It was nice to see you again.”

“Maybe we can hang out again. Sometime soon?” He asks.

He’s close now, probably too close. You can feel his breath fan over your face as his words are murmured to you. His eyes travel down to your lips. You know what he wants, and even if you didn’t he tells you when he tilts his head closer to you.

“I kissed Daniel.”

He freezes at your words, slowly pulling back. A flash of anger crosses his face.

“Did he make you?”

“No! No, I kissed him willingly.”

“Oh.” He leans back on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you should know.” You head tilts down in shame.

He hums. “So are you dating him?”

You look back up at him. “No, I don’t think so.”

Sebastian smiles mischievously. “Then he has no claim over you. You can kiss whoever you’d like.” He brushes the hair away from your face and leans in again. If he pressed his lips to yours you wouldn’t have pushed him away, but he doesn’t. “I’m not going to kiss you schatz. I don’t want to confuse you, or make you feel bad about your feelings for either of us. But I won’t give up on you that easy. I’ve still got some fight in me.” He winks, then pulls away to stand up.

You almost reach out for his hand, wanting to pull him back down and kiss him yourself, but he steps away, towards your door.

“Goodnight schatz.” He calls out to you, then you hear your door open then close.

You feel fuzzy on the inside, like you’re on a bit of a high as you get ready to go to sleep.

Daniel comes by the next day, immediately pulling you into his arms and planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good morning sweetheart.” He says. “I brought breakfast.”

He puts a bag down on your table. You recognize the logo on the bag, it’s from the diner he took you to after you filmed your video. He hums as he admires the flowers on your table, letting his fingers gently brush against the petals.

“Where did you get these?” He asks, thinking you probably bought them yourself just to add to the dining room.

“Seb gave them to me.” You tell him. You try to sound casual about it, as if he didn’t stay late last night and if you had your way you would’ve climbed on top of him.

“Seb?”

“Sebastian.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, I know who Seb is. I just thought you weren’t seeing him anymore.”

You shrug. “It was nothing. We went out to lunch. As friends.”

He nods. “So, got any plans for today?”

You try to have a nice day with Daniel, but it’s clear something has shifted. He holds onto you just a little tighter, and makes sure to sit next to you a little closer.

When he drops you back off at your house he leans in for a kiss. You turn your head, letting his lips land on your cheek.

“Goodnight Daniel.” You quickly tell him, stepping into your house and closing the door between you.

Daniel lets his anger bubble up on his drive home. Why were you with Sebastian the previous night? Who the hell did Sebastian think he was to give you flowers? Why didn’t you let him kiss you tonight? His hands grip the steering wheel as he drives.

He walks back into his house and sighs as he hangs up his coat. The house seems far too empty, too cold when he’s home alone.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he walks to his room.

To Sebastian

I don’t know what your deal is, but you need to back off. Y/n and I are happy and you’re just going to ruin it.

He gets a reply within minutes.

To Daniel

I think Y/n can choose to spend her time with whoever she wants. And I’m not planning on letting her go that easy Danny. Let the best man win.

Daniel huffs as he tosses his phone aside. He’s going to show you just how much better he is for you than Sebastian.

#sebastian vettel x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #sv5 x reader #dr3 x reader #formula one x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

Note

AITA for venting to my friend about my fiancée?

I (24M) have been with my fiancée (26NB) for about 3 years now. I try to avoid venting to my friends about it when I’m having little relationship annoyances because I used to do that for a while and it ended up with them just getting a horrible image of her because when good things happen that make me happy I would be responding IRL with my fiancée or gushing about it publicly e.g. on Twitter which most of my friends don’t use, vs when bad things happened I’d go to them to vent directly so they were only seeing the shitty moments. They would just always tell me she sucked or to break up with her which just wore on me because I don’t want to do that, they know I don’t want to do that, they know I don’t think I need to. Our relationship is super affectionate, has helped me massively in improving mentally and socially and in my confidence, makes me genuinely happy, and is for the most part, with certain problems we’ve been working on aside, healthy.

It’s not a communication issue or anything, I’ll address any issues with my fiancée directly as well and we’ll resolve it between us, just sometimes I’d feel the need to vent out my upset first while calming down or talking through what to say to her before I brought it up etc.

However this changed recently. my fiancée has always been a very physical person, she’s cuddly and loves kisses and just general touching, and that also translates into her playfully hitting me a lot, which I’ll do as well. Smacking each other on the ass when we pass each other, jokingly hitting each other’s arms (gently) when we’re making fun of each other, stuff like that. Very occasionally this will bother me (the other day she pinched my face hard enough that it hurt for like 20mins afterwards) but for the most part I genuinely could not care less and I take it as all in good fun.

She has never hit me in anger before, until today. She was playing a video game and died, and I laughed while sitting next to her when I saw it, and she just turned around and hit me full force. Like, harder than she’s ever hit before, and causing genuine pain. Usually I would just brush it off because like I said she hits me in a joking way a lot, but when I kind of gave a startled “ow” she just looked at me and hissed “Don’t laugh” through her teeth and she looked genuinely pissed off, and the force behind the hit just caught me completely off guard. It was also very very sudden because we’d been talking normally and light-heartedly, had even been cuddling a few minutes before, and although she was pretty clearly exasperated at the game (sighing, saying “oh my god” when the fight was going downhill) I didn’t think it was serious anger, so her abruptly whipping around and hitting me like that was so sudden and whiplashy I didn’t even have time to register it.

I have PTSD (C-PTSD? don’t remember what the specific diagnosis was) from my last relationship which was abusive in pretty much every way you can think of, and one of my biggest triggers that has been relevant in this relationship as a result of it is raised voices/anger around me (not necessarily At me, just like when my fiancée is getting frustrated or stressed and she’ll start hitting her keyboard or shouting and it’ll make me start panicking), but this is the first time I’ve had to confront being triggered by a physical violence thing. I started dissociating like hell so I left the room when she was distracted by the game and ended up slipping out of the house to call one of my best friends via Discord and lowkey cry about it

I genuinely don’t really remember what I said, the gist was just that I’d been triggered by my fiancée hitting me in anger and that I needed to calm down before I went back. This may have been a dick move because this friend is a mutual friend of me and my fiancée - I knew her first and am closer to her, but she recently met my fiancée in person for the first time and they seemed to get along well, and we’re in several servers and stuff together.

After I was done I went back in and my fiancée apologised for hitting me so hard. I said thank you and we moved on

But afterwards she confronted me because my friend had sent me a message after that basically just checking in on me and my fiancée had seen the message on my laptop that she was using to game. I usually have my Discord on Do Not Disturb when she’s using my computer just so she’s not bothered by notifications beeping at her constantly so I’m not sure if it wasn’t on for some reason and it popped up on-screen or if she minimised the game and saw it somehow, but she was incredibly upset with me because she said I’d made her out to sound physically abusive. I did explain that I’d made clear to the friend she’d never seriously hit before this, but she said that didn’t matter because it was still giving off that impression and that it was unfair because her hitting me was done in a moment of frustration/anger and I shouldn’t have laughed at the game.

I apologised and we dropped it but I do notice that since then she’s been on my computer/phone more often and she’s slid into a few of my friends’ (and I mean My friends, not ones she talks to or knows and not ones I’d said anything about this to) asking if I’ve ever spoken about her and if she can give her side of the story. My friends came straight to me about it because they felt uncomfortable with what they saw as being prompted to talk about me behind my back.

Reasons I don’t think I’m TA: She hit me, and I know she vents about me to her friends too, and although it does bother me that her friends don’t like me because of it (for I assume much the same reason some of mine don’t like her for, AKA only hearing about negative stuff) I’ve always maintained she has the right to do it. I think everyone should be able to vent to friends about partners or family and vice versa in private because venting is normal and as long as it’s not dishonest or just pure shit-talking them I think it can be helpful and even healthy.

Reasons I think I might be TA: I went to a mutual friend so she also has something to lose if this friend forms a negative opinion of her, I laughed at her dying in the game even though I know she gets incredibly frustrated and competitive in games, and I’ve never had an issue with her hitting me more playfully before so she may have just misjudged how hard it was.

So AITA for telling my friend my fiancée hit me / getting so upset about it or is it just PTSD acting up and making me overdramatise something that is basically on the same level as the joke hitting?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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narumi-gens · 1 year

Text

Platonic

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: Osamu knows that there’s nothing going on between you and his brother. And yet, he still can’t help but be jealous.

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, don't let the summary fool you – this is basically just 4k words of fluff, jealous!osamu, slightly insecure!osamu, married!osamu, dad!osamu, very normal relationship problems, the importance of communication, kita is always the voice of wisdom, osamu is really just a simp for you, reader and osamu are #CoupleGoals

notes: whenever I’m trying to get back into writing, stealing plots from sitcoms is always a guarantee so everything from the title to the banner to the plot is at least 80% lifted from platonic (which is such a wonderful show).

words: 4k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Osamu is jealous. And he hates it. He hates the word. He hates the feeling. He hates what it says about him. He really hates how irrational it is.

But what he hates most is that the person that he's jealous of is his own brother (that scrub).

But maybe he's the scrub. Because it's dumb. You've been together for years. You trust him. You love him. You're committed to him. You're married to him. You’re the mother of his child. You're happy with the life that you've built together.

And he knows that Atsumu is your best friend. You were Atsumu's friend before he even met you. Atsumu is the one who introduced the two of you, who set you up — which he'll never stop taking credit for if his speech at your wedding was anything to go by. So of course you spend a significant amount of time with his twin.

It’s never really bothered him before. If anything, he’s typically relieved that you’re so close with Atsumu. The more you occupy the setter’s time, the less time he has to annoy Osamu.

And you’re allowed to have friends and a life outside of being a wife and mother. He wants you to have fun and to be your own person outside of your relationship with him. He doesn’t expect you to go from home to work and back to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Not that you would ever allow it.

It wasn’t easy and it took a lot of hard work, but over the years, the two of you have built a happy balance between him running the restaurant, you pursuing your own thriving career, being doting parents to a three-year-old son, and still managing to keep your marriage healthy. So this gross feeling of jealousy has no place in his life, especially where Atsumu is concerned.

But it creeps up on him slowly, needling its way into him before he even has a chance to stop it. He first feels it over something so small that it embarrasses him.

He asks you if you want to go see a new movie that’s been advertised for months. His mom and yours are always eager to babysit — sometimes eager to the point of forcing you both out of the house for what’s declared “much-needed grandparent time.”

“Oh, I promised Atsumu that I’d see it with him,” you reply with a slight tilt of your head before picking up your phone. “Let me check with him about us all going together.”

It’s a simple and obvious solution. You’ve already sent your message to Atsumu and are looking up showtimes for that weekend. But there’s a small voice in the back of Osamu’s head insisting that you should be asking him if Atsumu can come with the two of you, not the other way around. The unfamiliar thought makes him feel uncomfortable and he quickly shoves it away.

But just that small, intrusive voice is like a spark and it isn’t long before he finds himself hearing it again, fanning the pathetic, weak flame into something stronger.

One morning, he’s pulled from sleep by the blankets lifting and the mattress dipping. When he cracks open a bleary eye, he sees you doing your best to slip into bed without disturbing him. He can’t check the time on his phone without giving away that you’ve already woken him up. But from the pale grey light of early morning that’s already beginning to brighten the bedroom and the fact that Reiji isn’t already awake, Osamu guesses that it’s between five and six.

He knows that you had plans with Atsumu last night. You told him that you would probably be back late. But “back late” feels like an understatement considering the joys of parenthood usually have both of you up in about an hour whether it’s a workday or not.

When you come down a few hours later, the bags under your eyes and unkempt hair point to your inability to sleep in even after what he can only assume was an all-night rager. You pepper your son’s cheeks with exaggerated kisses that have him giggling over his breakfast as Osamu pours you a cup of what he’s sure is much-needed coffee.

“Ya got home late last night,” he comments as you take the mug that he passes you.

“Ah, yeah. Just ended up going a little harder than I meant to,” you reply and something close to embarrassment seems to cross your features. You glance at Reiji, making sure his attention is on his food before you lower to voice to a furtive whisper. “I threw up in a karaoke room and had to sleep it off at Atsumu’s.”

His immediate instinct is to laugh in your face and he has to bite his lips and quickly look away from you to keep from doing so. You weakly punch his shoulder in response before sitting down at the table.

But the amusement at your misfortune slowly starts to fade, replaced instead by that same voice, which is growing steadily more familiar. He can’t remember the last time that the two of you had a night like that together. He tries to think back on if it was before or after Reiji was born. And while you certainly don’t make vomiting in karaoke rooms a habit, it’s not at all rare for you and his brother to have a wild night out.

When the voice asks why you’re having them with Atsumu but not with him, the only thing he can focus on is the knot in the pit of his stomach and how it only seems to grow tighter.

He hears it again when he’s with Atsumu one day and he asks Osamu what he thinks about you rejecting a new job offer. The question is offhanded — he’s looking at his phone when asks it, barely even giving Osamu a fraction of his attention.

But Osamu freezes. This is the first that he’s heard about any job offer. He didn’t even know that you were interviewing somewhere else.

“What job offer?” His voice sounds thin and Atsumu seems to realize that he’s unintentionally stumbled into something much bigger because his thumb stops scrolling and there’s a line of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there only moments ago.

“Uh, it’s nothin’ big,” he quickly tries to assure his brother as he puts down his phone and turns to face him fully. “It just happened this week. Some new place made her an offer and she turned it down.”

Osamu merely hums, his expression betraying nothing, but his twin brother knows him too well.

“Look, I’m sure she just hasn’t gotten ‘round to telling ya,” he offers and Osamu can see the slight panic in his eyes. “She had that big meeting. And she’s been lookin’ after Reiji-kun since he’s been sick, right? Things’ve probably just been too crazy fer her to even think about it.”

Every excuse only digs the hole deeper. It’s not just this apparent job that you’ve been pursuing only to turn down that Atsumu knows about. It’s also your hectic work week and how you’ve been taking care of Reiji since the restaurant’s been too shorthanded for Osamu to stay home.

What’s next? Is he going to mention that you’ve also been so busy the two of you haven’t had sex in almost three weeks? From the guilty look in his twin’s eyes, Osamu would bet good money that he’s already aware.

On his way home, he tries to think about the best way to raise the subject with you and ultimately decides that there’s no good way to ask, “Hey. Why are ya tellin’ Tsumu things but not yer husband?”

(He knows that’s definitely the wrong way to phrase it, but that little voice won’t say it any other way.)

But when he enters your bedroom he finds you slouched against the headboard, fully passed out with Reiji sprawled on top of you as he clings to you even in his sleep. The light and tv are both still on. You’re obviously exhausted and stretched thin, while Osamu is looking to pick a fight. The guilt he feels is almost crippling.

It probably hasn’t even occurred to you to mention the job offer with everything else going on. Atsumu is right, which only makes him feel worse.

He comes toward the both of you and carefully tries to pick Reiji up out of your arms without waking either of you. But he’s only just managed to pry the sick toddler loose when your eyelids flutter open.

It takes you a moment to register what’s happening, still feeling the dregs of sleep, but when you do, you give him the softest smile and it makes him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

“Did you just get home?” you whisper as you help him lift Reiji off of you. But before he can take your son too far away, you shift over and gesture for Osamu to place him in the middle of the bed. “He’ll cry if he wakes up in his room alone.”

“He doin’ any better?” Osamu quietly asks and does as you ask, gently putting him down before sitting down on your other side on the edge of the mattress.

“His fever broke a couple of hours ago, so he should be back to normal in a day or two.” The news is a visible relief to you. It’s not just the amount of effort a sick child takes, but also the worry that’s been weighing you down.

“Wish I coulda been ‘round more to help ya,” he tells you, his guilt about both doubting you and leaving you to take care of Reiji by yourself beginning to peek through.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you assure him, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his hat hair. “I know that you’re in a bind since Kimura-san quit. I’m the one with the flexible hours and schedule. I really don’t mind. We’re a team.”

He doesn’t deserve you.

“Well, the new part-timer starts next week so things’ll finally calm down,” he offers and something mischievous sparkles in your tired eyes.

“Good. Because when you can finally take some time off, we’re gonna pawn Reiji off on the grandparents. Then you’re gonna make it up to me by spending the entire night making me cum so hard I see stars,” you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument, as if he would ever want to.

“I can do that,” he agrees with a grin.

“We haven’t fucked in weeks,” you pout and Osamu can’t hold in his laughter, only for you to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from waking up Reiji.

Your own quiet giggles are able to momentarily drown out the small voice reminding him about the job offer that you’ve yet to tell him about.

But a few weeks later, even after having the house to yourselves for an entire weekend and spending it fucking on every surface that you could like you used to do before Reiji came along, those embarrassing feelings of jealousy are still as present as ever.

You post a series of photos of you and Atsumu at a restaurant. The first picture is of your happy, smiling faces and the matching pair of five-pound gyoza on the table, one in front of each of you. As he swipes through the series, you both look worse and worse as you try to finish your gyoza. When he gets to the final one, you’re proudly holding a certificate from the restaurant for having finished yours in an hour, while Atsumu looks like he’s on death’s doorstep.

He’s so preoccupied swiping back and forth through the photos that when the restaurant door slides open, it startles him so badly that he almost drops his phone entirely. He doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved that it’s Kita coming to drop off a new order of rice rather than a customer who didn’t read the closed sign.

On one hand, he doesn’t want to deal with a customer while he’s in the midst of indulging that voice that’s slowly becoming a companion. But on the other, dealing with Kita when he’s in a jealousy spiral is even worse.

“Is everything alright? Ya look like ya just got some bad news,” Kita observes with a small frown of concern.

As Osamu assures him that nothing’s wrong, he tries to hurriedly shove his phone into the pocket of his apron. However, it slips from his sweaty hands and skids across the floor of the restaurant where it comes face-up to a perfect stop right in front of Kita’s feet.

He picks it up and when he sees the final picture of you and Atsumu on the screen, he shakes his head in amusement.

“Atsumu only sent me the picture of them at the start of the challenge,” he wryly says as he slides the restaurant door shut behind him and joins Osamu at the counter. He takes a moment to swipe through the rest of the photos in your post before passing the phone back. “I’m surprised ya didn’t go with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t invited,” he mumbled, vocalizing the bitter thought that’s been taking up so much space in his mind ever since you and Atsumu originally made the plans. But as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows he’s given himself away because he can feel Kita’s heavy gaze on him.

“Did ya ask if ya could join ‘em?” is Kita’s annoyingly reasonable response. After a few moments, Osamu gives the smallest shake of his head, confirming that no, he didn’t ask if he could go with you and his brother.

“Y’know, yer wife is an amazing woman,” he finally says when it’s clear Osamu has nothing else to offer. “But fer all of her talents, she’s not a mind reader. Just talk to her.”

Osamu groans loudly at how rational Kita is being. He drops his head down to rest his forehead on the countertop, his Onigiri Miya hat flopping off in the process. While he agrees that it’s good advice, there’s still one problem.

“Kita-san…it’s embarrassing,” he protests childishly and he turns his head to the side to look up at his old team captain. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Stop spendin’ so much time with that scrub!’ I’ll sound like an idiot.”

“Just talk to her,” Kita repeats calmly and Osamu can only sigh. “Why don’t ya tell me how Reiji-kun’s been?”

For the rest of the day, Osamu finds himself trapped in an internal debate over whether or not he should take Kita’s advice. The ugly voice in his head insists that he shouldn’t have to say anything at all. If you really love him then you should already know. The more self-conscious part of him keeps warning him of how embarrassed he’ll be when he tells his wife, the mother of his child, the love of his life, that he’s jealous of how much time she spends with his brother.

But a new voice, one that sounds exactly like Kita, simply asks him if he’s tired of feeling like this. Does he really want to keep harboring this resentment? It’ll only continue to fester and grow until it explodes, hurting everyone he loves.

So that night, after he’s put Reiji to bed and the dishes are done and the laundry is folded and he has no more excuses left to procrastinate, he collapses next to you on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. You look up at him from your phone with an amused smile, only for it to slightly fall when you see how troubled he looks.

“What’s going on? Did something happen at work?” you ask, turning to give him your full attention and scooting closer to him so that you can rest a gentle hand on his thigh.

He shuts his eyes and gives himself a single moment to steel himself before finally letting out the poison that’s slowly been building inside of him for the last few months.

“I have somethin’ to tell ya and it’s gonna make it seem like I’m fifteen or somethin’,” he says and he knows that if he didn’t sound so serious then you would be making a joke about him having some sort of wet dream and ruining the sheets. Instead, you give his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

“Lately…fer the last few months…I’ve been feelin’ kinda…jealous.”

There. The words are out there in the world. You’ve heard them. He can go crawl into a hole and wait for the embarrassment to kill him.

“Jealous? Of what?”

He hates how concerned you sound. You’re not making light of his admission. You’re not confused. You’re being patient. You’re gentle. You’re so much better than him and his childish pettiness and resentment and jealousy.

“You and stupid Tsumu,” he grumbles, slouching down even further into the couch. He glances over at you from the corner of his eye and sees the look of surprise on your face. He shuts his eyes again, balling his hands into fists, and tells himself to man the fuck up.

With his nerves now steeled, he takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and turns to fully face you.

“Look, I know that ya got this weird friendship with Tsumu and that he’s yer best friend. And it’s never been a big deal before, but lately, I dunno…,” he trails off, his gaze darting down before he forces it back up to meet yours. “I’ve just been feelin’ a little…cut out.”

“Osamu,” you murmur, lifting a hand to his face but he quickly takes it between both of his so that he can hold it tight and keep himself steady.

“I love you and our family and the life we’ve built together. I wouldn’t change any of it fer anything,” he’s quick to assure you, needing you to know that you make him happier than he ever thought he could be. “But sometimes I see ya hangin’ out with Tsumu and havin’ fun and it sounds dumb but, I wish I could see more of that part of yer life.”

You softly repeat his name before you climb into his lap. You wrap an arm around his shoulders to hold him close and pull your other hand from his grasp so that you can cup his cheek with a loving touch.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way,” you tell him. “You’re always gonna come first. I don’t ever want you to feel excluded or like I’m trying to keep the different pieces of my life compartmentalized.”

Just hearing your apology and acknowledgment of the irrational jealousy that’s been plaguing him soothes his insecurities and embarrassment.

“I want ya to be able to go do things on yer own and do things with Tsumu without feelin’ like ya gotta bring me along every time. But ya just look like yer havin’ fun when yer gettin’ up to stupid things together and I guess, I just wanna have fun with ya too,” he shrugs. Despite how true it is, he hates how cheesy he sounds. But from the way that you’re looking at him with so much affection, you clearly find it touching.

“I love having fun with you, Osamu,” you smile back at him and his cheeks start to feel warm. “I’d love to do more stupid things with you.”

“Even if that stupid thing is spendin’ 20,000 yen at an arcade to beat a bunch of teens for the high score?” he asks and it comes out shyer than he intended. “Or buyin’ out every flavor of chips and every type of snack from the konbini just to rank ‘em?”

“Even then,” you nod with a grin. “Even if it’s needing to make a cab pull over to throw up after a night of drinking.”

“I thought it was the karaoke room?” he frowns in confusion.

“It was the karaoke room for me. The cab was Atsumu,” you tell him with a laugh and he snorts in response.

But then, since this is a time for honesty, he decides to bring up the question that’s been weighing heavily on his mind for the last few weeks.

“Why didn’t ya tell me about the job offer?” he gently asks, the question curious rather than accusatory.

“Job offer?” The line of your mouth twists down and your eyebrows knit together as you try to understand what he’s referring to.

“Tsumu said ya turned down a job offer. It was around when Reiji was sick,” he explains and his tone turns slightly hesitant. “Did ya feel like ya couldn’t tell me?”

Your eyes spark with recognition before you roll them in annoyance.

“Atsumu’s an idiot. He never listens,” you begin to rant and he’s not too proud to admit that hearing your irritation directed towards his twin extinguishes the last remaining embers of his jealousy. “It wasn’t a job offer. A recruiter reached out about a job opening for a position that involves more work for less pay. I didn’t even reply.”

He feels an odd mixture of relief, guilt, and frustration. He’s relieved that this was just some misunderstanding, but he feels just as guilty for jumping to the worst conclusion and thinking that you were something big from him. The frustration will be dealt with when he next sees his twin and gives him an earful and delivers a slap to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry fer not just askin’ ya ‘bout it sooner,” he says and you just give him a look of understanding.

“You and me, we’re only human. There are just gonna be times when I forget to tell you something or just don’t think to bother with it. But I’ll always do my best to make sure you know when there’s something going on. We’re a team, remember?” You run your fingers caringly through his hair with a soft smile and he leans eagerly into your touch.

“We’re a team,” he repeats quietly, finding the words comforting. He then gives you a slightly embarrassed look. “Hey, don’t tell Tsumu, okay? He’ll just call me a scrub.”

You place a reassuring kiss on his lips before nodding.

“Don’t worry. You’re a scrub, but you’re my scrub and I love you.” He can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close. “But, you wanna do something crazy, huh?”

When he looks up at you, it’s to find a hint of wildness creeping into your expression. It’s the same wildness he used to see when you first started dating — before you both became adults and spouses and parents with real responsibilities.

The next day, Atsumu stops by the restaurant in the late afternoon during a lull. His appearance is unannounced, meaning that Osamu hasn’t had a chance to prepare himself for what he knows is to come. It’s as bad as he imagined because as soon as the setter walks in, he freezes, his expression going slack in shock at the sight of Osamu.

Or more correctly, at the sight of Osamu’s hair, which has been amateurishly dyed to be the same shade of grey that he used to wear in high school.

“Don’t even start,” he warns but doing so is pointless because Atsumu immediately bursts into laughter, finding it so funny that he has to clutch his stomach as he bends over.

“Who’s idea was this?” he manages to ask in between his gasps for air and his cackles. “Ya look so stupid!”

Osamu just stares at him blankly, not bringing up the fact that Atsumu is the one who’s been wearing the exact same hairstyle since they were sixteen, and isn’t that even more pathetic?

Because for all of the mocking that he receives, he knows it was worth it for the time he spent joking and laughing with you into the late hours of the night in your tiny bathroom as you did your best to dye his hair without burning his scalp.

#first thing I've written in months 🙀#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #miya osamu fluff #osamu fluff #platonic #mel writes

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standreamy · 1 year

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"Poison Counterpoison" part 1/3 For marichatmay2023 : Multimouse Next . . . Sooo yeah, a miraculous post. To be honest, when the prompts for Marichat May came out I was excited to get to work because they were pretty interesting. My fav bunch out of all marichat mays. However, irl issues came up and I had to take a forceful break I'm still partially into... and I also realised fandom wise that I have zero motivation to draw Miraculous at the moment.

This comic is kind of a proof to it, being on hold since last year, when season 4 was airing and my dissatisfactions with the series grew at very high levels. I used my own fanwork for aus to try keeping motivated and engaged, but the series is making me so tired and angry at how they are handling things, that I can't have fun anymore even while making my own stuff for it. Especially for the topics I addressed in the comic. Multimouse never brought up, communication issues subplots messed up in the worst ways, almost zero growth, moralism all over the place... And after being accidentally spoilered with leaks on twitter about the finale... I can't really find any motivation with how messed up I think it is. This is inspired on a fic I posted on ao3 "blame the rain". While the ending of that fic is much more sadder than the one for this comic and the characters here were changed a bit to be made more... Regretful and make the drifting off more realistic, the feeling is quite similar. . . Right now, only the movie is something I look forward and while I plan to finish my aus and headcanons in future, it won't be anytime soon. In this moment, I wish to give my time to things that makes me genuinely happy and have fun. However, I thank everyone for your support with my content and anyone who is genuinely interested in my Aus.❤️ . . .

#mlb season 4 #multimouse #marichat #multichat #chat noir x marinette #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #miraculous fanart #miraculous ladybug #mlb fanart

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whyhellosims · 11 months

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Happy Simblreen, friends! First gift of the season is the Carnaval Kit overalls converted for kids!

Info and download links under the cut!

What you get: Twenty total swatches, including all original colors and a few new/grungy ones for fun, plus the usual white swatch for the recolor adventurous. What you don't get? NECKLACES. Sorry, kids, I just could not get them to display correctly, so no necklaces with this. It's a full body outfit, unisex, disallowed for random. You can find it enabled for athletic, hot weather, every day, and party under the jumpsuits and overalls sort.

Some in-game shots (sorry, it was cloudy AF):

TOU: No pay sites ever. This item is free always, no conditions, no a*fly links. If you use it and you want to credit me, I’d love to see your sims, so just tag me. This is also part of my #WHS-LittleGrunge collection, so feel free to check out the other pieces!

If you like my work, please consider a reblog to spread the word? Got requests? Need specific recolors? Find a problem? Please feel free to send me an ask or a DM! I promise I don’t bite and I’m still learning, so I’m happy to help!

Thank you to @sssvitlanz, @mmfinds, @alwaysfreecc, @mmoutfitters, @public-ccfinds, @simblreenofficial

Moar WHS CC

Here we goes! ➡ SFS Link / Google Drive

Thank you so much for making simblr a fun and delightful community! Happy Simblreen, my friend, and stay spooky!

#ts4cc #sims4cc #ts4 cc #sims 4 cc #maxis match cc #WHS #whs cc #whs-little grunge #child

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snoopyliker · 4 months

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Here’s a translation of what Bagi said at the end of her stream.

Bagi: I really wanted to say that QSMP was an opportunity I’ve never had before in my life. Because I impeded myself from taking those opportunities, in the sense of communicating with other creators from countries. When I was a kid I learned and practiced a little bit of English but I never practiced after leaving school because I never had the opportunity and I ended up accepting that I’d never go back to speaking in English because I didn’t practice and if I needed to do it then I’d be shit because I wouldn’t be able to communicate. So when Cellbit spoke to me saying, “Look we really want you to participate in QSMP with us.” I said, “Dude, my communication with people from other countries is going to be very difficult.” And there he said, “You don’t need to worry the translator works really well.” And honestly the translator worked really well because it allowed me to not just communicate with people from various countries, in my own native language, but also allowed me to learn words & terms in other languages.

And I think that I learned a lot culturally speaking because various people from various countries could share their cultures. Which to me is something that is more valuable than anything else. We consume a lot from our own culture and what we see on TV but actually co existing with people from different cultures every day for various hours a day was very cool for learning many new things. I think that QSMP was an experience that wasn’t just very fun but for me, as a player, was an experience that changed my life. Because now I have friends from various parts of the world, I have various people who I met personally who I love, and various more that I still want to meet and be able to do many things together. We lived many cool moments and even if they were characters we were playing, as if they were small scripts we were playing, even then we still lived emotions that were very real. We lived through suffering together, happiness together, and much more. We shared many cool emotions together and so that created a great relationship between the content creators.

From getting along and starting to directly interact on the server to, for instance, people accompanying me late nights while I dug a whole, that refers to the players as much as it does to the administrators as well who’d stay up late digging the hole and updating twitter, doing many things with me. When I only wanted to log on the server, do Lucky Ducks, dig my whole, there was always people to participate and do things with me. And so it was always a lot of fun and it was always people from various places. (…) Because I already knew Cellbit and Felps for a long time but getting close to Pac and Mike was very crazy and it was very fun. The entire experience was very fun. And that’s it.

I think what I’m most grateful for about the QSMP was all the people that connected us. All the people who participated and permitted us to create genuine connections during the game. Because it’s only a game but at the same time everyone who is participating are real people with real feelings who share real things, you know? So it was very cool. I met many fun people who were very cool to spend all this time with. Not just the creators but the team. Everyone. So it was very cool. Very cool.

And I think that the most important thing of all is that you live through experiences in your life with various people and experiences come and go but the mark you leave on people and the mark they leave on your life is permanent. And so experiences come and go, people come and go, but the mark people leave is permanent. The mark that all these creators, all the team, all the actors of QSMP as well, of the eggs, of the characters, left a permanent mark on me that I’ll never forget because it was very cool. I hope still to find the creators, live many fun things with them still, and that’s it. I think I’ve participated in many cool things, I’ve done many cool things in my career and QSMP definitely was one of them. I have many good memories created with the server and people who participated with me. It was very very very fun.

(Bagi also said she wants to have a chat with Elena one day to discuss what she said about the Rebels with Walter Bob there as well)

if i made any typos no i didnt goodbye.

#bagi #qsmp

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bluebeary-jay · 1 year

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Midnight kisses

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Jackson celebrates the New Year’s Eve, and you're thinking about finally confessing to your crush how much you like him. but Joel Miller, the object of your affections, might have other plans in mind. (based on this adorable request!!)

Tags: FLUFF my beloved 🥰, Joel is very flirty in this one, lots of crushinggg, just old sweet mutual pining (also they're both lovesick idiots)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk, jealousy, age difference

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: i had a lot of fun with this one 🥰 thank you so much once again for the request, dear, i hope you'll like what i came up with. (btw this was supposed to be a short fic but it seems i'm unable to write one 😔) still i hope yall will like it and as always, happy reading!! 💕

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The party was in a full swing.

You didn’t expect anything else from the Jackson community. Ever since you arrived here, you were astounded by the effort that the people living in this small town were making to create a life as normal and joyous as possible – for their children and themselves. And today, on New Year’s Eve, they outdid themselves. There was food, music and drinks – almost as if the apocalypse outside those walls never happened.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping on your beverage while you waited for your friend, Angie, to arrive. Dancing alone didn’t sound like an appealing idea, so while you waited for her, you opted for some people-watching – though if you were honest with yourself, it was more like ‘person-watching’.

Your eyes strayed to a figure on the opposite side of the room for like a twentieth time, but you couldn’t help it even if you wanted to. Because there stood a man who still, even after more than a year of knowing him, made the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

Joel Miller.

He looked really good in a clean flannel and fitting jeans, you conceded. His hair was slightly wet, like he washed it just before coming to the party, and combed a little to the back, making the silver strands in his hair and beard shine in the low lights. You found yourself unable to look away or get rid of that stupid grin on your face that lingered when Joel smiled lopsidedly at something his brother said. The muscles in his arm bulged when he lifted his glass to take a sip, and you watched the lines of his neck when his throat bobbed...

“You’re ogling,” murmured a voice next to your ear, and you jumped a little in surprise. Next to you stood Angie, smirking at you.

“Jesus, Angie.” You put your hand on your chest, your heart pounding rapidly. “A ’hello’ would be nice.”

Your friend knew, of course, about your massive crush on Joel Miller, and you thought more than a year of pining on your part would cause her to grow bored of all the jokes and teasing that she threw your way. Apparently, you were wrong.

“Hello,” she said, then sat down on the other chair and leaned closer to you with a wide smile. “You’re ogling. In a room full of people, may I add.”

“I’m not,” you murmured defensibly, but your face grew warm at the realization that she caught you. “How long have you been standing here, anyway?”

“Like half a minute. By the way, you’re also drooling.”

“I’m not!” you repeated, now in an irritated whisper. You knew you weren’t drooling, but still had to refrain yourself from wiping your mouth, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. “Stop making things up.”

“You should just go talk to him.” Angie casually nodded in Joel’s direction. “He didn’t come with a date, sooo…”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s waiting for someone.”

“Uh, duh!” Angie flicked you on the forehead, and you hissed. “For you to make a move. You can… oh, I know!” she bounced in her seat excitedly and clapped her hands. “Ask him to dance with you!”

You almost snorted. “Joel Miller dancing? Sure. He wouldn’t agree even if he did like me.”

“He does like you. Jesus, you flirt with each other all the time.” The smile disappeared from her lips and she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice. And maybe dead.”

“There’s no flirting, I told you.” You took a sip of your drink, glancing at the object of your affection. “He talks in this way to everyone.”

“He never called me ‘darling’,” Angie retorted. “Or gave me his jacket when we got caught up in the rain.”

You smiled softly at the memory, but that just made you feel even more hopeless, because since that day, you weren’t able to have a normal conversation with the man you liked so much.

“What do I do?” you whined, leaning on the table. “He’s so beautiful. And he for sure doesn’t see me that way.”

“Are you drunk already? You said you didn’t want a repeat from–”

“–from last year, yeah,” you finished for her and sighed. “I’m not drunk, just feeling down. There’s no way I’ll be able to tell him I like him, Angie.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.” Your friend nudged you gently. “You can just inconspicuously take him under one of the mistletoe and go ‘oh, what’s that?’, and then…”

“What mistletoe?” you asked, only now looking up at the ceiling where familiar-looking leaves were tied with a string to the support beams under the ceiling and above the doors. “Why is there mistletoe hanging?” you asked skeptically. “It’s a New Year’s Eve party.”

“I think they haven’t taken it down since last week.” Angie shrugged, but then grinned at you. “Don’t you think it’s a sign, though? So many places to kiss your crush under~...”

“Jesus, keep your voice down,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands again. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” she mocked in a low voice. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know, babe,” you whined, and sighed heavily again. “You know what, maybe I should just forget it. Let’s go have fun, dance, and later throw up from all the food and…”

Suddenly, Angie interrupted you with a high noise in her throat. You gave her a questioning look and she looked at you with a tight-lipped smile and wide eyes.

“He’s coming here.”

“What?!” You automatically turned around before Angie hissed for you not to look, and sure enough, there was Joel Miller, making his way through the crowd with his eyes locked on you. “Oh my god,” you breathed, clutching at your friend’s hand. “He must’ve seen us talking. What do I do?”

“You sit there and look smoking hot, and let him flirt with you,” she answered with confidence you didn’t feel. “And maybe you won’t even need to ask for the kiss, maybe he’ll do it for–” Her eyes darted above your shoulder. “Oh, hey, Miller.”

You gulped and took a deep breath before turning around and– oh, God, he looked even better up close.

Angie kicked you lightly under the table when you didn’t say anything, and you cleared your throat, smiling up at the man you were so crazy about. “Uhm, hi, Jo– Mr Miller.”

“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name, sugar?” He had kind of a boyish smile on his face that made him look younger and even more handsome, which in turn made your stomach fill with warmth. He sat down next to you, and his eyes scanned you down and back up, slowly, lingering on your legs and curves just for a second longer. “You look lovely.” He then glanced at Angie, sending her a nod. “Both of you.”

“Really?” you beamed, and Angie kicked your ankle again, making you wince. “Uhm, thanks. You clean up nicely yourself.”

A trace of smirk ran across his face, but it was gone before you could make sure it was really there in the first place.

“Are you enjoyin’ the party?” he asked casually, hiding one hand in the front pocket of his jeans. Your eyes followed his movement before you caught yourself.

“Y-yeah, it’s nice. A little too loud for me, but really nice.”

“Maybe you wanna step outside for a bit, then?” Joel nodded in the direction of the deck in the back, and your heart started beating faster.

Did he want to be alone with you? Or was just being polite and preferred to talk somewhere quieter, and you were getting your hopes up unnecessarily? You hoped it was the first, that he genuinely enjoyed chatting with you as much as you did with him – but you never knew with a man like Joel Miller. He was an enigma, sometimes serious and so stoic that you couldn’t for the world figure out what was going on in his head, and other times charming and teasing, making you weak in the knees when he was looking at you with that fiery glint in his eyes…

“Sugar?” Joel asked, lifting his eyebrows with what seemed to be amusement, and you cursed yourself mentally for spacing out.

“Sorry, I… Yes, let’s– sure, let’s go.”

All of you stood up and you looked over your shoulder at Angie with a panicked face, but instead of reassuring you, she sent you a quick, sly grin.

“You two go ahead,” she chirped. “I’m gonna go look for my date.”

“Angie–” you whispered, giving her a look, but the woman just winked and turned around, disappearing into the crowd of dancing people. “Angie!”

Before you could go after her, you felt a big, warm hand on the small of your back, and your entire body tensed. Joel leaned over to your ear, whispering in a low voice.

“Shall we?”

“Yeah,” you squealed, so quietly he probably didn’t hear it over the loud music. “Sure.”

Your legs moved on their own, going where he guided you. The walk to the terrace in the back lasted no longer than fifteen seconds, but it felt like hours had passed. You were very aware of the light pressure of his fingertips on your back, with only one layer of material separating your skin from his, and the nerves of feeling him so close behind you were making you walk stiffly and oddly – though, miraculously, he didn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t like how loud the music is, either,” Joel said after you two exited the main room, and he closed the door. Then he glanced at you again, his eyes flicking to your bare legs just for a second longer. “Are you cold?”

“No,” you answered truthfully. Not only was it nice to feel the cool air after sitting in a stuffy room with a crowd of people for so long, but also you still felt warm from Joel’s closeness. “I’m alright.” Joel nodded absentmindedly, and you squinted. “Did you want to talk about something or…”

“Nah, just wanted to escape for a minute.” He rubbed his beard and shrugged, but there was tightness to his body language. “Not much to do in there except for drinkin’.”

“And dancing,” you cut in.

Joel glanced at you, and the lazy smirk returned onto his features.

“You like to dance, sweet girl?” he asked, and you felt your face growing hot when you heard his tone. Low, drawling and oh, so delicious.

“If the party is good, yes, I guess so.” Then you remembered what Angie suggested earlier, and you took a shaky breath, mustering all the courage you had in you. “We… if you want, we could dance a little later, if they play something nice…?”

But the hot nerves in your chest turned to cold disappointment when Joel started to shake his head with a chuckle. “Nah, darlin’. Sorry, I don’t… I’m no dancer.”

“Noone here is,” you retorted, a bit hurt by how quick his rejection was. “It’s just for fun.”

“I know better ways to have fun than t’make an idiot of myself in front of bunch of people.”

“Like what?”

Of course, you just had to ask.

Joel smirked, as if he was just waiting for it, and took a step forward, forcing you to take one backwards. His brown eyes bored into yours, making you weak in your knees, and you promptly turned your gaze away, not able to withstand the tension in the air. With a cough, you walked up to the wooden railing, pretending that you weren’t feeling sheepish at all.

“For one, talkin’ here with you is fun enough for me.”

You forced yourself to look at Joel when you heard it, just to see if he’s joking, but the man appeared genuine. He leaned against the rails, his hand right next to your shoulder, and you couldn’t get rid of the thought of how easy it’d be for him to cage you in this spot with his strong arms, how he’d make your entire body tremble…

But you weren’t quite sure yet if he was being sweet or just tried to mess with you, so you decided that a teasing response would be the best course of action.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged lightly. “I’d still like to find someone to dance with tonight.”

At that, Joel’s hand gripped the railing tighter and his body stiffened. You had to hide a triumphant smirk on your face, pleased that you managed to throw him off his game – whatever it was that he was playing.

“One of your friends?” In your peripheral vision you saw him lifting his eyebrows with the faintest of scowls. “Or one of those shady guys sittin’ at the bar, staring at pretty girls like you? ’Cause they’re no good for you, darlin’.”

“Oh, really?” you scoffed and lifted your chin, feeling touched that Joel was acting so protective – (and maybe even… jealous?) – about what you said. “You were the one that didn’t want to dance. What do you know about what’s good for me, anyway?”

“Those guys won’t treat you right. They just want a girl to spend the night with, and you deserve better than that.”

He was right, of course, but it didn’t mean you were going to openly give him his due. You made an acknowledging noise, not really sure what to say, but Joel didn’t seem to mind. He continued in a quiet, raspy voice that sent shivers down your spine. “You deserve someone who’d take real good care of you, darlin’. Not some drunk out of their ass idiot.”

“Are you drunk, Mr Miller?” you asked, not looking at him in fear he’ll see how red his words made you, though you could still see his smirk in the corner of your eye.

“No.”

“You act like you are.”

“C’mon, sugar, look at me.” He took your chin between his fingers and your body went rigid. His warm gaze met yours for just a second, and he tilted his head forward a little. “Do I look drunk?”

“A little.” You turned your head away, but he tsked and guided your chin back.

“In the eyes, darlin’.” You gulped at his words, and his dark, brown irises twinkled in the fairy lights dangling from the roof and walls. “And call me Joel, please.”

His chest was almost touching yours, and you felt the wooden railing digging into your lower back, but at that moment you didn’t mind at all. Joel was so close, and your breath hitched in your throat when you got enveloped in his earthy smell, with a tinge of bonfire and… was that cologne? For some reason the discovery that he used cologne for tonight made your heart flutter.

But as much as you loved every second of being so close to him, you remembered that you weren’t alone on the terrace. There was a pair of people talking – well, now kissing, judging by the sound of it – and your eyes darted to the side to see if they were looking at you both. “Come on, there are people here. It’s not…”

The man clicked his tongue in disapproval and moved slightly closer, now practically pinning you against the railing with his body, and you squealed unwillingly when he, once again, made you look at him.

“Eyes on me.”

And God, if it wasn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen or heard. It was unfair how much power his gaze and tone wielded over you.

“Okay,” you managed to whimper, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards, creating that adorable dimple in his cheek.

“And my name, sugar.”

You didn't know why you were complying so easily, but something about the softness and tenderness in his voice made you feel safe. He wouldn’t hurt you, of that you were absolutely sure.

“Okay, Joel.”

His thumb brushed the edge of your bottom lip with the softest of touches, making your legs almost turn to jelly. It made you want to say his name again, though in a much more needy tone.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel murmured with a smirk, never looking away.

Lord, have mercy.

You were so grateful for the wooden rails behind your back, because you were sure you’d collapse any second now if he kept looking at you like that.

“I… Joel…”

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” he murmured without taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Your brain was mush at this point, but even if you could formulate any words, you doubt you’d ask him to step away. So you settled on shaking your head slightly, to which Joel nodded. “Lemme know immediately if it changes, darlin’.”

How could you be so blind? All you could think about was that Angie was right – there was no way Joel Miller wasn’t flirting with you. Maybe he even liked you. Maybe – just maybe – he wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him.

“Didn’t you wanna… get back to the party?”

You didn’t make any move to get away yourself, however, not wanting him to drop the arm with which he was holding your chin. The material of his shirt was bulging over the lines of his biceps, and it felt really nice to stand so close to him.

“I’m in no rush.” Joel’s voice dipped, and your insides tightened. “You?”

“No, but–”

“Here you are, you ol’ fucker!”

Joel took a step back, and you both turned to see his younger brother walking clumsily through the door with a big, drunken grin on his face. You cleared your throat, still breathless and blushed, but both Millers didn’t pay you any mind anymore.

“Tommy.” Joel’s face was like made out of stone, but his eyes were betraying how irritated he was with the interruption.

“You thought you’d manage to get away, ya old dog?” Tommy hooked an arm around his older brother’s shoulders and finally looked at you to send you a wink. “Sorry, sweetheart, gotta borrow ‘im for a second. He has a date to get to.”

It took you a couple of seconds to register that yes, you heard him right. A heavy veil of hurt and disbelief slowly fell down on you, and your eyes started to prickle as you looked from Tommy to Joel.

“A date?”

He had a date. Why then did he talk and act this way with you, making you feel like you ever had a chance with him?

“C’mon, don’t keep a lady waiting,” Tommy said to Joel instead of answering you, and tugged the other man back inside, but Joel didn’t move. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even get lucky tonight!”

That you couldn’t listen to.

Trying to hide how painful his words were to you, you ducked your head and tried to slip past the brothers, desperate to get out of here. A hand – which felt so achingly familiar now – shot out and grabbed your elbow before you could escape. You lifted your tearful eyes only to meet Joel’s sorrowful ones.

“Darlin’, wait. It’s not…”

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupted him, tearing your gaze away. “I wanted to go to the bathroom, anyway.”

Joel looked like he wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t bear being in his and Tommy’s presence any longer. You slipped out of his grasp, quickly coming back inside and navigating your way to the bathrooms.

He had a date for tonight. And still he flirted with you and touched you so lovingly, and… and almost…

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! To think you ever had a chance.

You dashed into the bathroom and quickly opened the first free stall you saw, then shut it behind you. There you just slumped against the wall and wrapped your arms around yourself, giving in to the flow of your tears, but trying not to make a sound.

You felt so foolish for letting yourself fall under Joel Miller’s spell, for ignoring that he obviously couldn’t be interested in someone like you.

He probably saw you as a dumb child. No wonder he’d prefer someone else, probably a woman closer to his own age.

But why did he have to be so cruel, to lead you on and hint that…

No, you realized. It was your own damn fault for letting your heart justify his every action towards you.

Almost ten minutes must’ve passed before you got a grip on yourself and decided to go find Angie. You needed to talk to someone, preferably distract yourself from the unpleasant situation you had to experience, and maybe try to salvage the evening somehow. With that in mind you took a couple of breaths, wiped your eyes and then hesitantly exited the bathroom.

You only managed to take a couple of steps, however, before your eyes were drawn to a familiar and beautiful side profile. You wished you didn’t know his face so well, because then you wouldn’t see Joel whispering something to a stunning woman you didn’t know at the far end of the room. She was hanging off his arm, bright eyes and a million-dollars smile directed solely at him. Joel appeared to be looking around, but a few seconds later he put his hand on the small of the woman’s back – just as he did earlier with you – and started walking. Neither of them looked your way before exiting through the front door and leaving the party.

As well as a gaping hole in your heart.

*****

A few minutes later you managed to find Angie. You were a mess at this point, barely able to stop yourself from sobbing. It was truly pathetic.

“I don’t know her name. But I saw them leaving, and she was hanging off his arm and–” you choked on your words and gave a humorless laugh. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m so sorry, hon.” Angie looked at you sadly. “We can ditch the party if you want. Go to my place and watch some movies,” she suggested gently, but you were already shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m fine, really, I… I think I'll just go home. But you should stay with your girlfriend.” Angie looked like she was about to protest, but you squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I promise I’m okay. I’m just gonna go straight back home and lock myself inside with a bowl of ice-cream. Or go to sleep.”

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I… I think I need to.” You gave her a weak, sad smile, and stood up. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? You have fun, I don’t want to ruin your night, too.”

“You’re not ruining anythi–”

“I mean… this. All of this stuff with,” you swallowed heavily, “him.”

Angie still seemed unconvinced, but finally nodded after a while. “Alright. But come and get me if you feel worse.”

“I promise. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, then went towards the side exit and out into the snowy night without looking back. You didn’t want to stay here and watch as all those happy couples share sweet kisses at midnight, thus reminding you of your heartbreak.

This time you had your coat on, but it was far too thin for this kind of weather. You wrapped it tighter around yourself and hid your hands in the pockets, starting to make your way home. It was a bit far from the main square, but you needed to get away from the music and laughter of the partygoers as quickly as possible.

Alas, you only managed to walk one street away when out of nowhere, a big hand grabbed your elbow, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait.”

You turned around and took a step backwards at the same time, freeing your arm with a strong tug. The words full of anger were ready to spill out of your mouth, but that was until you saw who stood in front of you with a painful expression.

The last person you expected to see here.

“Joel?” You whispered surprisedly and looked around, but there was no one else nearby. Not that strange woman you saw him with, at least. “What are you doing here?”

“I was lookin’ for you,” he rasped between gasps, like he ran all the way here. “You weren’t at the party.”

“Why were you… What are you doing here?” you repeated more coldly, the sight of him only making your fresh heartache so much more noticeable. “I thought you left.”

“M’so sorry.” Joel’s beautiful dark eyes were full of sadness and weariness. “I would have never left you if I could help it, darlin’.”

He took half a step forward and lifted his hand slightly to graze yours with his icy-cold fingertips. You weren’t wearing any gloves either, so his touch sent a jolt up your arm. You looked down at it, but gently moved your hand away. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you have a… date?”

“No.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. You avoided his eyes and instead watched as snowflakes landed and melted in his hair. “No, it was Tommy… You saw how drunk he was, and he wanted to set me up, insisted on talking to that girl, but I…”

“You should get back to her, then,” you said dryly, really not having strength to even hide how hurtful his mere presence was. You went past him, hiding your neck in your coat. “I don’t want to keep you from–”

“Darlin’, wait.” Joel grabbed your arm again, though still gently and without any force. “Listen, she was nice, but I told her that I can’t get involved in anythin’, because I…” He faltered slightly when you looked him in the eyes, for the first time since your talk on the terrace. “There is… it’s– fuck.” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. “There is someone else,” he finally spoke, his voice almost trembling, and looked at you again, “that I’m madly in love with. And it’s you.”

Through the open door to the party someone shouted what sounded like the time, but it was all happening in the background of your mind. All you could focus on was Joel, standing so close to you and looking almost scared as he waited for your reaction.

Cold crept up your limbs and up to your cheeks while you tried to digest what the hell you just heard, but as if held by the invisible force of his gaze, you couldn’t move an inch.

“...what?”

“I… really, really like you,” Joel whispered, his dark and sad eyes drilling into your unbelieving ones. “I went to this party just to see you, darlin’. And I’d never chose to spend the evenin’ with anyone else but you. I’m so sorry I left you like that and…”

He then gulped and very slowly lifted his hand to your face, not fully cupping your cheek but hovering just above it. He searched your eyes, but when you didn’t back away, he touched your skin carefully, and an involuntary sigh escaped you as your eyes fluttered closed.

You never thought one could be touched with such care and fondness. No one has ever treated you like that before, like you were made of the most precious glass.

“You can tell me to fuck off,” Joel whispered, and you opened your eyes to find his face a little closer than before. “I just thought that maybe… if you would maybe, too…”

He was getting flustered again, and it was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. It must’ve been close to midnight now, because you noticed that the music stopped and the racket inside the building was at its peak, though it was hard to distinguish the words people were shouting when your heartbeat was almost deafening in your ears.

“But I saw you leaving with that woman.” You had to make sure you were on the same page with him before you did something idiotic. Again. “You aren’t…?”

“No,” Joel breathed a quiet chuckle and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, while his eyes danced across your face. “It’s only ever been you, darlin’.”

Then he must’ve heard something – his head turned to the side to look at where the party was still going on, before his eyes returned to you, and you felt his thumb swiping your cheek in an oh, so tender manner.

“May I?” he asked in a whisper, so close that his breath skimmed your parted lips. You hoped he was asking about what you thought, but this time wasn’t brave enough to ask and clarify.

So you just nodded.

And Joel leaned in, without any hurry, and kissed you.

It was fitting, you supposed, that only a couple of seconds later the clock chimed midnight, and shrieks of laughter and cheers filled the air while the people still present at the party celebrated loudly. You couldn’t care less, however, because in that moment, your entire world was Joel. His – still cold – hand caressed your scorching cheek, and the other found its place on your hip. The smell of him, the warmth with which his body radiated, and the feeling of his lips, rougher in touch than you’ve imagined, but still soft in movement – all of it together was almost overwhelming.

You parted after a while with blissful sighs, though didn’t move away – Joel still held you close, his forehead pressed to yours, and eyes shut tightly, as if he was in pain. He took a trembling breath when you touched his jaw with your icy fingers.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded in a murmur, taking you aback. “Sugar, if you don’t… Please, tell me to stop.”

You shook your head and held onto him tighter before he even finished.

“Please, don’t stop.”

Your lips clashed again, tongues meeting and dancing together, and it was the closest you’ve ever felt to any type of heaven in this cruel, forsaken world. Joel pulled you flush against him and kissed you again, more forcefully this time, tangling his fingers in your hair. You let out an involuntary moan, but his mouth swallowed the sound immediately, not giving you a split second of respite.

“I wanted to do it a year ago,” Joel muttered between the kisses, before he took your face in his hands to look you in the eyes properly. He smiled, that same adorable and boyish smile, when he saw how breathless and flushed you were. “Wanted to kiss you so much, sugar, but,” he obviously fought back a laugh at this point, his eyes crinkling, “you got wasted and puked your guts out just before midnight.”

“Oh my god.” You didn’t know he saw it, particularly the moment when all the alcohol you consumed a year ago refused to stay in your stomach. “I wasn’t– I don’t usually… I got drunk ‘cause I saw Sheryll kissing you on the cheek,” you admitted with embarrassment, feeling your skin growing even hotter. “I thought you and her were together at that point…”

“But why did you get drunk because of it, sweet girl?” Joel mused, brushing his nose against yours and obviously teasing you. You snorted and shook your head.

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You playfully pushed him away lightly, but he tightened his grip around you, not letting you step away.

“You’re an asshole sometimes,” you whispered, making Joel chuckle. “Fine. I really wanted to kiss you, too. Happy?”

He smiled and kissed you again, softly and passionately this time, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“Very,” he whispered against your lips and dragged his nose up to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Very much, baby.”

Your heart fluttered with joy at his affectionate tone. Joel pulled away, his hands leaving your body to cover your own, situated on his jaw and arm.

“Now, what do you say we head back inside?” he asked with a disarming smile, brushing your knuckles with his thumbs. “And maybe you’ll let me ask you for a dance?”

You didn’t give an answer, but the joyous kiss you pressed to his lips – which, with your enthusiasm, almost made both of you topple over into the snow – spoke for itself.

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